^m  I  .;  ; -.•■w,' 


r^ 


GIFT  or 
Gladys  Isaacson 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/creeddeedseriesoOOadlerich 


(( 


conscience; 


-A.    LEOTXJPiE 


DELIVERED    BEFORK    THE 


Society  for  Ethical  Culture, 

BY 

FELIX  ABLER,  Ph.  D., 

SUNDAY,  NOV.  3d,  1878. 


For  the  Benefit  of  the  Free  Kindergarten. 


I>RICE:,    10    CEN^TS. 


NEW  YORK: 

Lehmaier  &  Bro.  Print.,  95,  97,  Fulton  Street. 


''CONSCIENCE."  ^^ 


What  we  desire  we  have  declared ;  a  religion  so  sim- 
ple that  the  most  ordinary  understanding  can  grasp  it,  so 
authoritative  that  the  most  obdurate  heart  must  bow  to 
it,  and  yet  so  high  and  pure  that  even  the  aristocracy  of 
intellect — those  rare  souls  that  dwell  upon  the  heights  of 
humanity — shall  find  in  it  satisfaction ;  nay,  shall  con- 
fess that  the  scope  of  its  demands  far  transcends  what 
even  they  can  ever  hope  to  realize.  And  we  have  found, 
we  have  found  what  we  desire.  We  are  like  men  who 
have  come  upon  a  great  treasure,  and  who  do  not  weary 
to  publish  again  and  again  the  news  of  their  good  for- 
tune. We  are  like  those  who  have  been  tossed  on  the 
mad  sea,  and  who  now  stand  high  on  the  rocks  whence 
the  surges  can  no  more  tear  them.  We  are  like  those 
who  have  feared  the  loss  of  some  dear  friend,  and  to 
whom  their  friend  is  restored  even  from  the  brink  of  the 
grave.  Do  they  ask  us  for  our  religion  ?  The  pursuit 
of  absolute  justice,  absolute  purity,  absolute  love — that 
is  our  religion. 

Among  all  the  possible  theories  of  human  life,  there  is 
one  that  will  never  be  acceptable  to  any  generous  heart, 
viz.,  the  theory  that  we  are  mere  atoms  in  a  world  of  dead 
matter.  We  observe  the  stone  when  it  is  thrown  from  the 
hand  fall  back  to  the  ground.  We  see  the  same  law  of 
gravitation  which  causes  this  simple  occurrence,  display 
its  superb  effects  among  the  celestial  orbs,  binding  with 


4  COKSCIENCE. 

golden,  invisible  cords  those  worlds  on  worlds  of  infinite 
space,  as  thej  move  to  the  tones  of  spheral  music  in  the 
symphony  of  cosmic  harmonies.  We  know  how  wonderful 
Nature  is  in  its  revelations  of  grandeur,  and  how  innumer- 
able also  are  the  marvels  of  the  Little,  how  much  grace 
is  embodied  in  the  fragile  flowers  of  the  field,  how 
much  beauty  in  the  form  of  crystals,  how  manifold  and 
multitudinous  a  life  swarms  even  in  a  drop  of  water. 
And  yet,  whatever  Nature  may  offer  that  is  calculated 
to  awaken  admiration,  or  even  awe,  we  claim  to  be  some- 
what more  awful  to  ourselves,  somewhat  greater,  some- 
what of  a  different  order  than  the  w^hole  world  be- 
sides. And  though  we  know  that  the  law  of  growth  and 
decay  has  power  over  us  also,  that  as  the  over-ripe  fruit 
falls  from  its  stem  so  we  too  shall  fall  a  prey  unto  cor- 
ruption, that  as  the  wind  now  sweeping  through  the  for- 
est blows  the  withered  leaves  together,  so  the  wintry 
wind  of  age  shall  sweep  us  also  to  lie  still  underneath  the 
snows  of  death,  yet  does  a  voice  cry  out  mightily  within 
us  that  we  are  not  altogether  like  these  leaves,  that  we 
do  not  wholly  perish,  that  there  is  a  meaning  in  our 
lives  which  remains  after  us.  To  increase  the  empire  of 
the  good,  to  fulfil  the  moral  law,  that  is  our  purpose ;  to 
this  end  were  we  born,  in  it  we  behold  the  satisfaction, 
the  total  dignity  of  human  existence.  And  so  again  it 
appears  that  Conscience  is  the  pivotal  point  of  all  our 
philosophy. 

The  question  now  comes  home  to  us  with  greater 
force  than  ever  before  :  What  is  Conscience  ?  There 
have  been  many  and  contradictory  theories  concern- 
ing it.  It  is  true,  in  the  great  practical  applications 
of  duty,  we  recognize  no  uncertainty.     We  shall  never 


'. "^ 

CONSCIENCE.  •        5 

permit  the  malefactor  to  shield  himself  behind  a  quibble 
of  casuistry.  Jf  the  perpetrator  of  an  evil  action  asserts 
that  his  conscience  failed  to  warn  liim  of  the  evil,  we  op- 
pose to  his  conscience  the  general  conscience,  and  con- 
demn him  without  compunction.  If  the  robber  informs  us 
that  he  committed  his  dastardly  deed,  not  from  any  evil 
propensities  that  are  in  him,  but  because  of  philosophic- 
al doubts  as  to  whether  robbery  is  a  transgression  or  not, 
we  shall  take  him  before  the  magistrate,  and  have  him 
sent  to  an  institution  where  they  undertake  to  settle  all 
such  doubts  at  hard  labor  for  a  term  of  years.  And  yet, 
the  fact  remains  that  learned  and  honorable  men  have 
widely  differed  as  to  the  sanctions  of  morality,  and  we 
do  not  find  it  at  all  an  easy  matter  to  obtain  a  satisfac- 
tory answer  when  we  ask,  what  then  is  that  which  claims 
to  exercise  over  our  wills  so  absolute  an  authority  ? 

There  are  some,  in  the. first  place,  who  assert  that^ 
there  exists  no  fundamental  principle  of  Conscience. 
Right  and  wrong,  they  say,  are  relative  terms.  What 
was  deemed  right  in  one  age  is  condemned  as  wrong  in 
another,  and,  conversely,  what  was.  abhorred  in  one 
period  is  highly  lauded  in  some  subsequent  stage  of 
human  development.  And,  indeed,  it  cannot  be  denied 
that,  on  a  superficial  view  of  history,  abundant  illustra- 
tions may  be  found  that  seem  to  support  such  an 
opinion.  The  most  barbarous  deeds  have  been  com- 
mitted not  only  without  the  protest,  but  with  the  appar-  , 
ent  approval  of  the  conscience  of  those  who  did  them./ 
It  is  considered  proper  among  certain  savage  tribes  both/ 
in  Asia  and  Africa,  to  slay  one's  parents  after  they  havej 
grown  old  and  too  feeble  to  maintain  themselves.  Blood-l 
shed  is,  under  certain  conditions,' esteemed  meritorious.\ 


6         •  CONSCIENCE. 

The  chief  of  the  Fiji  Islanders  washes  the  deck  of  his 
new  boat  with  the  blood  of  slaves,  and  believes  that  in 
so  doing  he  secnres  the  special  favor  of  his  gods.  The 
King  of  Dahomey,  who  intends  to  sacrifice  five  hundred 
human  beings  in  honor  of  his  religion,  can  be  deterred 
by  no  scruples  of  Conscience  from  executing  his  atrocious 
intention.  The  Roman  Church,  which  lit  its  thousand 
fires  of  persecution  in  the  Netherlands  and  in  Spain, 
was  doubtless  convinced  that  an  all-merciful  deity  ap- 
proved these  cruel  severities.  Even  the  common  forms 
of  honesty  have  been '  disregarded  among  nations  by  no 
means  uncivilized.  The  Spartans  hardly  considered 
theft  a  wrong,  and  punished,  as  is  well  known,  not  the 
act  but  the  clumsiness  of  its  execution.  Among  the 
Bedouin  Arabs  the  murder  of  a  stranger  is  regarded  as 
a  venial  oflFence,  if  offence  at  all.  And  the  swarthy  son 
of  the  desert  who  protects  with  his  own  life  the  guest 
that  has  entered  the  shadow  of  his  tent,  does  not  scruple 
to  slay  the  same  person  when  he  meets  him  on  the  high 
road.  Thus  does  Conscience  seem  to  contradict  itself, 
and,  chamelion-like,  to  assume  different  hues  among  dif- 
ferent nations  and  in  different  ages ;  and  only  to  the 
profounder  insight  does  the  method  appear  which  de- 
termines all  these  variations,  the  Unchangeable  which 
perdures  through  all  these  changes. 

There  is  a  second  school  of  thinkers  who  recognize 
what  the  first  do  not :  the  fact  that  a  fundamental  prin- 
ciple of  Conscience  exists,  but  who  seek  for  it  in  the 
wrong  direction.  We  Iiave  experienced  in  modern 
times  a  decided  reaction  against  the  spirit  of  the  middle 
ages.  In  those  dark  ages,  as  they  are  wont  to  be  called, 
the  prevailing  tendency  of   men's   minds   was  toward 


CONSCIENCE. 


romanticism.  What  could  be  more  romantic  than 
the  devotion  of  the  knight-errant  to  his  lady !  What 
more  romantic  than  the  apotheosis  of  the  Lady  in  the 
religion  which  gave  rise  to  the  worship  of  the  Virgin 
Mary !  What  more  imaginative  than  that  wild  enthu- 
siasm which  in  eight  crusades  .dashed  the  hosts  of 
Europe  against  the  armed  East,  and  spent  the  treasures 
of  Europe  like  water,  and  wasted  the  flower  of  its 
soldiery  in  the  vain  attempt  to  wrest  the  grave  of  the 
Nazarene  from  the  triumphant  possession  of  the  infidel ! 
What  could  be  more  dreamy  than  the  spirit  which  built 
the  great  gothic  cathedrals  through  whose  painted  win- 
dows the  dim  light  falls  on  vaults  and  tombs  and 
prostrate  penitents ;  those  poems  built  in  stone,  those 
mighty  piles  that  tower  aloft  so  white  and  ghostly,  with 
their  tapering  arches,  and  their  tall  spires  that  yearn  into 
the  skies  !  But  in  modern  times  a  new  spirit  prevails. 
We  are  practical  rather  than  sentimental.  We  ask  of 
all  things  their  utility  ;  only  that  seems  valuable  which 
is  useful — so  that  use  and  value  have  come  to  be  em- 
ployed as  if  they  were  synonomous  terms.  But  men 
have  gone  too  far  in  this  direction.  Men  have  gone  too 
far,  I  say,  when  they  apply  the  yard-stick  of  utility 
even  to  moral  principle.  Enlightened  self-interest  is  the 
oracle  to  which  they  appeal.  We  shall  not  speak  false- 
hood, not  because  we  dare  not  do  it  because  of  the  ab- 
solute wrong  involved  in  doing  it,  but  from  a  calculat- 
ing regard  to  our  own  interest,  because  we  know  that  if 
every  one  were  to  speak  falsely  the  promises  made  to 
ourselves  would  also  be  broken.  We  shall  not  plunder, 
because  if  every  one  were  to  plunder  our  own  plunder 
would  be   insecure.      We    shall    not  kill,  not  because 


8  CONSCIENCE. 

human  life  is  sacred,  but  because  in  a  reign  of  violence, 
when  the  hand  of  every  man  is  raised  against  his  brother, 
our  own  lives  would  be  in  constant  danger.  The  self- 
ishness of  the  individual  dammed  in  by  the  selfishness 
of  all,  that  is  what  they  name  Virtue.  That  is  the 
mockery  of  Virtue,  a  counterfeit,  a  changeling  put  in  the 
place  of  the  divine  original.  No ;  the  utilitarians  have 
not  penetrated  to  the  core  of  Conscience. 

Nor  have  those  grasped  the  whole  truth  who  seek  in 
the  sympathetic  side  of  human  nature  the  tender  and 
amiable  impulses  of  the  heart,  the  well-spring  of  our 
moral  judgment.  These  gentle  qualities — pity,  tender- 
ness, sympathy — are  the  sweet,  younger  sisters  of 
Virtue ;  but  Virtue  is  greater  than  they.  Virtue  may 
demand  not  only  that  we  be  stern  towards  ourselves,  but 
also  that  we  check  the  movements  of  pity — the  we  resist 
the  whisperings  of  sympathy  if  so  it  be  that  the  law  of 
right  requires  it.  That  alone  is  the  standard  which  sat- 
isfies us — the  standard  of  a  Supreme  Law,  That  we  con- 
form in  conduct  to  supreme  reason— that  alone  is  Virtue. 

In  the  series  of  discourses  which  opens  to-day,  I  pro- 
pose to  discuss  at  some  length  the  theories  which  have 
here  been  indicated.  I  propose  to  show  that  there  is  a 
uniform  standard  of  right,  notwithstanding  the  manifold 
discrepancies  which  are  apparent  in  the  moral  judgment 
of  different  races  and  epochs  ; — to  show  wherein  lies  the 
radical  insufficiency  both  of  utility  and  of  sympathy  as 
principles  of  Conscience,  and  why  it  is  that  we  define 
Virtue  to  be  the  highest  expression  of  universal  law. 
Then  from  the  vantage  ground  of  these  discussions  we 
may  be  able  to  let  in  light  upon  some  of  the  moral  prob- 
lems that  agitate  men's  minds  at  the  present  time,  and  to. 


CONSCIENCE.  9 

set  before  you  in  their  due  order  the  duties  which  we 
owe  to  ourselves,  the  duties  which  we  owe  to  others,  to 
the  h'ving,  to  the  dead,  and  to  posterity.  But  before  we 
enter  upon  so  wide  a  field  of  investigation,  it  will  be 
necessary,  in  this  introductory  discourse,  to  dw^ell  upon 
a  preliminary  question  of  the  utmost  importance. 

It  is  maintained  that  the  belief  in  God  is  the  founda- 
tion of  all  ethics,  and  that  without  that  belief  we  can- 
not be  moral  men.  Is  this  assertion  true?  Concern- 
ing the  belief  in  God,  we  have  hitherto  had  but  little  to 
say.  What  little  we  have  said,  I  trust,  was  reverential. 
To  us  it  seemed  far  more  important  to  rouse  men's  minds 
with  words  that  ought  to  be  like  blows  upon  the  torpid 
soul,  to  an  appreciation  of  the  practical  moral  needs  of 
the  day,  rather  than  to  spin  the  gossamer  threads  of  an 
abstruce  and  subtle  philosophy  which  few  men's  minds 
are  fine  enough  to  grasp.  When  some  one  asks  me 
"  Dost  thou  believe  in  God  ?"  I  am  disposed  to  resent  the 
insolence  of  the  question.  For  he  may  mean :  What  are 
thy  thoughts  concerning  this  v^ast  world-riddle,  and  then 
I  have  a  right  to  answer  him.  These  are  my  own,  and  I 
shall  disclose  them  at  whatever  time,  and  to  whomsoever 
it  pleaseth  me,  and  to  those  of  whom  I  am  reasonably 
certain  that  they  will  also  understand.  Or  to  him  God 
and  Good  may  be  identical,  and  this  question  ''  Dost  thou 
believe  in  God  ?"  may  mean,  Dost  thou  believe  in  good- 
ness, and  then  shall  I  answer  him,  "  Friend,  what  heinous 
crime  have  I  committed  that  thou  dost  ask  me  thus  ?" 
Were  I  disposed,  however,  to  meet  my  interrogator  on 
his  own  ground,  I  should  put  question  over  against  ques- 
tion. "  Dost  thou  believe  in  God  ?"  What  god  ?  There 
are  numberless  gods — a  different  god  in  the  mind  of 


10  CONSCIENCE. 

almost  every  great  thinker — one  god  to  the  Buddhist, 
one  to  the  Jew,  another  to  the  Christian,  one  god  to 
Socrates,  another  to  Spinoza,  another  to  Kant,  and  yet 
another  to  Fichte.  Now,  what  god  ?  And  if  he  answers 
this,  I  too  will  answer ;  bnt  when  he  begins  to  grope 
about  for  a  reply,  presently  he  will  find  himself  involved 
in  pathless  obscurities,  and  he  will  see  how  difficult  it 
is  to  define  the  substance  of  that  whose  name  men  use 
so  ghbly.  What  they  mean  we  know,  and  few  will  dis- 
pute it.  That  there  is  a  power  above,  around,  within  us, 
larger  than  ourselves,  that  an  inevitable  will  sways  the 
universe^  and  that  we  have  reason  to  trust  in  the  Inevit- 
able, that  it  is  also  wise.  Did  they  say,  therefore,  the 
*'  Unknown  God,"  that  were  nearer  to  the  truth. 

But  the  question  now  is  not  of  the  existence  of  God, 
or  of  the  truth  of  any  one  conception  of  the  Deity.  Per- 
haps those  may  be  right  who  maintain  that  we  cannot 
be  wholly  happy  without  the  belief  in  a  Father  who  not 
only  governs  the  great  Whole,  but  who  stretches  down 
his  arms  to  lift  us  above  our  individual  needs ;  who  cares 
for  the  ravens,  how  much  more  then  for  us ;  who  knows 
our  sorrows,  who  can  dry  our  tears,  and  who  in  mansions 
of  light,  keeps  for  us  our  departed  friends  until  we  shall 
all  again  be  gathered — the  fathers  and  the  mothers, 
wives  and  husbands,  the  lovers  and  their  long  lost  loves. 
But  the  question  is  now  one  of  happiness.  It  is  simply  : 
Will  those  who  have  ceased  to  believe  in  God  be  less 
virtuous  on  that  account  ?  And  the  question  thus  put, 
I  propose  to  answer  by  showing  that  morality  is  totally 
independent  of  theology.  This  can  be  demonstrated 
both  historically  and  logically.  Historically,  then,  in  the 
first  place. 


CONSCIENCE.  11 

There  was  a  time  when  religion  not  only  failed  to 
foster,  but  actually  hindered  the  development  of  Virtue. 
Eeligion  originally  consisted  of  Nature  worship.  The 
manifold  aspects  of  Nature  were  deified.  But  the  ex- 
ample of  Nature  when  followed  by  men,  will  always 
lead  them  into  the  most  pernicious  aberrations.  Nature 
is  cruel ;  Nature  shows  at  times  a  sunny  smile,  but  she 
reveals  herself  also  amid  indescribable  horrors.  Nature 
appears  in  the  devastating  storm,  Nature  glares  upon  us  in 
the  eye  of  the  ferocious  wild  beast  of  the  forest,  Nature 
is  seen  in  the  livid  face  of  the  plague.  In  consequence, 
those  nations  that  worship  Nature,  often  practice  relig- 
ious rites  which  makes  us  shudder  even  to  remember 
them.  The  earliest  among  men  who  rebelled  against  this 
form  of  worship,  were  the  Hebrews.  It  is  claimed  that 
their  better  religion  gave  them  a  better  morality  ;  on  the 
contrary,  their  purer  morality  impelled  them  to  seek  a 
purer  religion.  How  otherwise,  indeed,  could  they  have 
arrived  at  the  idea  of  the  spiritual  Jehovah?  It  was 
not  announced  to  them  from  heaven,  as  the  legend  tells, 
and  w^e  know  that  they  were  not  philosophers  versed  in 
abstract  metaphysics,  to  invent  so  abstract  and  novel  a 
doctrine.  But  we  know  also  concerning  them  that  they 
loved  their  children  very  dearly,  and  that  they  were 
extremely  jealous  of  the  honor  of  their  waves  and 
daughters.  Now,  the  religion  of  Nature  in  the  imme- 
diate vicinity  of  the  Hebrews,  had  erected  temples  to 
the  destroying  gods  of  Nature^  and  also  temples  to  the 
licentious  goddesses  of  Nature,  and  demanded  as  a  sacri- 
fice in  the  one,  the  lives  of  young  children,  and  as  a 
sacrifice  in  the  other,  unhallowed,  shameful  offerings  at 
women's  hands.     Against  both  these  demands  the  heart 


12  CONSCIENCE. 

of  the  Hebrew  rebelled,  and  lie  held  that  a  religion  which 
put  forth  such  demands  could  not  be  a  true  religion. 
And  because  the  gods  of  Nature  so  outraged  his  moral 
feelings,  he  sought  a  god  outside  of  Nature,  and  be- 
cause these  were  cruel  and  unchaste,  he  sought  a  deity 
who  should  be  above  all  else,  merciful  and  holy,  that 
means,  pure.  The  idea  of  Jehovah,  as  described  in  the 
Bible,  was  the  result  of  a  moral  process  ;  because  the 
Hebrew  people,  by  their  habits  of  life,  by  their  history, 
by  their  native  genius,  were  gifted  with  a  more  vigor- 
ous conscience,  therefore  they  arrived  at  their  more 
spiritual  conception  of  deity.  It  was  a  flower  on  the 
stem  of  the  moral  sentiment,  not  the  root.  It  was  the 
roof,  if  you  will,  of  the  Hebrew's  temple  of  life,  not  the 
foundation.  But  it  is  with  the  foundation  alone  that 
we  are  here  concerned.  Historically,  therefore,  if  our 
theory  of  the  origin  of  the  Hebrew  religion  be  correct, 
the  priority  of  Conscience  is  proven. 

And  the  same  result  can  be  arrived  at  on  general 
grounds  of  reason.  Why,  indeed,  should  it  be  necessary 
to  accept  the  belief  in  a  God,  in  order  to  lead  a  virtuous 
life  ?  Is  it  true  that  if  we  take  away  this  keystone  of 
the  arch  of  theology,  the  whole  bridge  of  life  will 
therefore  sink  into  the  abyss,  that  we  shall  then  be  mere 
cunning  animals  distinguished  by  superior  misery  above 
the  rest,  that  if  we  cannot  believe  in  a  personal  creator, 
our  best  policy  will  be  to  eat  and  drink,  and  to  shake 
off  our  humanity  in  bestial  orgies  ?  Let  them  that  will 
try  the  experiment.  They  will  find  that  they  cannot 
do  it.  They  will  find  that  our  humanity  is  a  law  on 
us  which  no  one  can  shake  off.  They  will  find  that 
Conscience  holds  us  as  in  a  vice  ;  they  will  discover  that, 


*JK19    '    *■ 


CONSCIENCE.  13 


believe  or  disbelieve,  as  we  list,  we  mnr.t  act  out  the  law 
within  us  or  take  the  penalties,  and  that  no  one  will  be 
excused.     It  is  absurd  to  believe  that  the  morality  of 
the  world  rests  upon  the  foundation  of  any  belief.     The 
morality  of  the  world  rests  upon  its  own  evidence.     If ) 
to-morrow  every  dogma  which  the  masses  of  mankind 
hold  sacred,  could  be  blotted  from  their  memories,  the 
voice  of  Conscience  would  still  sound  as  before,  from  the   \ 
depths  of  human  nature ;  wrong  would  still  be  wrong,  J 
and  good,  good. 

A  parent  is  to  a  child,  as  it  wore,  the  moral  law  incor- 
porate. The  parent  sees,  the  parent  will  reward,  will 
punish.  But  there  are  times  when  the  father  does  not 
see;  then  they  say  to  the  child,  "There  is  another 
Father.  He  sees."  And  the  child  glances  round  fur- 
tively when  it  is  tempted,  and  shrinks  with  fear  when  it 
has  transgressed,  as  though  about  to  receive  a  blow  from 
the  invisible  world.  Thus,  to  the  older  children,  it  is 
said  : — There  is  a  witness  to  your  secret  sins.  In  the  in- 
most recesses  of  your  souls  you  are  known.  The  arm  of 
justice  may  not  reach  you ;  public  opinion  may  not  con- 
demn you;  yet  your  deeds  are  recorded,  and  you  will 
receive  your  due  hereafter,  when  the  great  account  is 
taken.  This  is  a  crutch  for  a  lame  conscience,  and  a 
feeble  crutch  at  that ;  for  surely  there  can  be  no  real 
punishment  for  sin,  save  the  deep,  damning  stain  of  the 
sin  itself. 

Yet  again  they  say — and  this  is  the  main  argument — 
Where  tliere  is  a  law  there  must  be  a  lawgiver,  and  if, 
therefore,  the  belief  in  the  lawgiver  be  taken  away,  the 
authority  of  the  law  itself  will  be  destroyed.  But  those 
who  advance  this  argument  appear  to  entertain  a  confused 


14  CONSCIENCE. 

notion  of  what  that  means — law.  They  seem  to  have  in 
mind,  whether  they  acknowledge  it  to  themselves  or  not, 
the  image  of  some  absolute  king  who,  by  virtue  of  su- 
perior power,  enforces  his  will  upon  his  subjects,  makes 
his  good  pleasure  their  law,  and  whom  the  people  obey 
because  obedience  can  be  compelled  if  not  voluntarily 
rendered.  But  we  are  Republicans  in  religion  as  well  as 
in  politics.  That  we  know  to  be  the  essence  of  freedom 
in  the  State — that  the  people  suffer  no  foreign  law  to  be 
foisted  on  them ;  that  they  obey  the  laws  indeed^  hut 
those  laws  alone  which  they  themselves  have  imposed 
upon  themselves.  And  how,  indeed,  it  may  well  be 
asked — even  granting  the  necessity  of  a  lawgiver — 
should  the  will  of  this  celestial  legislator  have  become 
known  ?  Into  the  presence  of  an  earthly  sovereign  we 
can  make  our  way ;  we  can  demand  to  know  from  his 
own  lips  what  his  will  really  is,  or  perhaps  some  auto- 
graph letter  will  satisfy  us — a  decree  to  which  his 
own  royal  signature  is  affixed ;  but  as  regards  the  heav- 
enly king,  can  we  penetrate  to  his  presence  ?  Can  we 
speak  to  him,  as  Moses  is  said  to  have  done,  face  to  face  ? 
Or  is  there  a  document  in  our  possession  that  really 
bears  his  signature?  The  Bible,  say  our  orthodox 
friends.  And  here  you  perceive  the  immense  import- 
ance to  orthodoxy  of  the  inspirational  theory  of  the 
Bible,  and  how  that  is  che  underpinning  of  the  whole 
fabric  of  the  old  theology.  That  one  fact,  of  the  Divine 
authorship  of  the  Bible,  if  it  were  a  fact,  would  forever 
set  all  doubts  at  rest.  But  we  who  know  that  it  is  not  a 
fact — we  who  know  how  entirely  human  were  the  authors 
of  scripture — we  who  have  seen  the  pretensions  of  what 
was  claimed  to  be  the  only  authoritative  message  from  the 


COKSCIENCE.  15 

other  world,  vanish  into  air — to  what  are  we  reduced  ? 
To  what  honest  people  in  all  religions  are  now  reduced, 
viz.,  to  this — that  they  look  to  their  own  conscience 
in  the  lirst  place,  and  observe  its  dictates,  and  then  to 
their  religion  ;  and  they  say  what  accords  with  their  con- 
science, that  is  religion,  and  what  clashes  with  the  dictates 
of  Conscience,  that  is  not  religion.  A  god  who  demands 
blood  is  not  God,  for  it  is  immoral  to  shed  blood.  A 
god  who  delights  in  ignorant  superstition  is  a  false  god, 
for  ignorance  and  superstition  are  by  their  very  nature 
immoral.  A  god  who  inflicts  eternal  torments  is  cruel, 
and  because  he  is  cruel  he  is  also  false  ;  and  so  it  appears 
(which  was  to  be  proven)  that  even  to  the  believer  God 
himself  is  God  because  he  is  good — not  conversely^  that 
good  is  good  because  it  is  of  God.  The  independence 
of  conscience  is,  therefore,  practically  conceded. 

But  this  is  not  enough  ;  it  must  become  evident  that 
that  which  causes  Virtue  to  be  virtuous,  is  this  very 
quality  of  independence.  If  we  analyze  the  actions  of 
men,  we  discover  some  to  be  laudable,  others  blame- 
worthy. A  few  examples  will  make  it  clear  that  inde- 
pendence is  the  criterion  according  to  which  we  judge. 

There  is  a  man  who  gives  largely  to  the  poor,  his 
name  appears  on  every  list  of  charitable  subscriptions, 
he  also  goes  to  great  personal  inconvenience  in  the  dis- 
pensation of  his  gifts,  yet  he  is  not  trusted.  Once  he 
refused  an  almoner  for  the  poor  who  came  to  him  in 
secret  and  told  him  of  some  obscure  family  that  was  in 
dire  distress.  Then  the  man  was  hard,  and  the  news 
somehow  went  abroad,  and  no  one  confides  in  him  any 
more.  He  gives  for  eflEect,  they  say ;  he  is  a  plausi- 
ble hyprocrite,  and  men  take  his  gifts,  but  he  receives 


16  CONSCIENCE. 

not  their  respect  in  return.  There  is  another  ''hail 
fellow  well  met"  at  every  season;  he  has  a  soft  heart, 
a  constitntional  weakness  which  makes  him  unable  to 
endure  the  sight  of  a  tear;  he  gives  what  he  has,  when 
he  has;  he  is  the  prey  of  knaves,  one  of  whom  the 
vicious  make  sport ;  the  world  says  of  him  with  a  sneer 
—T-a  good  man.  I  know  of  a  daughter,  a  fair  girl  she 
was  in  her  youth,  who  devoted  herself  to  the  nursing 
of  a  bedridden  parent.  She  made  herself  a  prisoner 
within  four  narrow  walls ;  rarely  did  she  catch  the  fresh 
breezes;  the  sweet  flowers  she  saw  only  from  afar. 
When  the  companions  of  her  age  were  gathered  in  gay 
circles  in  festive  halls,  she  sat  in  the  dimness  and  twi- 
light of  the  sick  chamber.  The  groans  of  pain  from  the 
near  couch  were  the  only  music  to  which  she  listened, 
and  the  querulous  complaints  of  decrepit  age  the  sole 
conversation  she  enjoyed.  And  so  she  performed  the 
dull  routine  of  her  daily  duties,  always  gentle,  always 
patient,  and  hiding  in  her  heart  whatever  longings  she 
too  may  have  had  for  freedom  and  joy.  So  the  years 
passed  on,  and  when  at  last  release  came,  and  the  doors 
were  opened,  and  Death  took  the  tribute  which  he  had  so 
long  spurned,  and  laid  the  suflEerer  away  under  the  sods, 
the  fair  girl  had  lost  her  bloom.  She  is  old  and  feeble  and 
solitary  now  ;  but  we  speak  of  her  action  with  respect,  and 
we  bow  low  to  this  lonely  woman  when  we  meet  her,  and 
call  such  deeds  as  hers  virtuous — -yet  not  of  the  highest 
type  of  Virtue.  For  had  not  the  mother  whom  she  at- 
tended nourished  her  at  her  own  breast,  endured  suflFer- 
ing  and  anxiety  for  her  sake,  and  loaded  her  w^ith  bene-  ^ 
fits  ?  It  was  brave  and  good  to  be  so  dutiful,  but  we 
should  have  rebuked  and  scorned  her  had  she  done  less. 


CONSCIENCE.  lY 

I  think,  also,  in  this  connection,  of  one  whose  name  is 
known,  and  whose  memory  is  cherished  wherever  the 
illustrious  men  and  women  of  America  are  remembered 
— Margaret  Fuller.  She  lifted  up  her  voice  in  this 
country  for  the  elevation  of  her  sex.  She  uttered  some 
of  the  truest  and  wisest  thoughts  which  may  guide  her 
sisters  in  their  efforts  to  be  free.  She  followed  her  Italian 
husband  to  Rome  when,  in  the  year  1848,  the  banner  of 
the  Republic  was  raised  on  the  Roman  ramparts.  She 
was  the  friend  of  Mazzini ;  she  was  an  angel  of  mercy 
to  the  wounded  soldiers  in  the  hospitals,  for  whom  she 
cared.  When  at  last  the  struggle  was  over,  and  the  hope 
of  liberty  was  quenched  in  blood,  her  heart  drew  her 
back  to  her  native  land,  and  she  embarked  to  return  to 
this  city.  The  American  shore  was  in  sight — the  ship 
was  oif  Fire  Island — when  a  terrible  storm  broke  over 
them.  The  sea  rose  high,  the  vessel  was  dashed  against, 
the  rocks,  and  was  ra^pidly  filling.  They  were  now  close 
in  to  shore,  and  a  plank  was  laid  to  some  rocks,  over 
which  a  number  of  the  passengers  had  already  passed  to 
safety.  Margaret  Fuller  stood  upon  the  plank,  holding 
her  boy,  and  drawing  him  after  her,  but  the^plank  was 
too  feeble  to  support  both.  The  seamen  urged  her  to 
proceed,  and  save  herself.  But  she  would  live  and  die 
only  with  her  child  ;  in  the  next  moment  the  waves 
rose  high,  the  plank  was  swept  away,  and  mother  and 
son  were  whelmed  in  the  abyss.  This,  also,  was  heroic, 
yet  not  of  the  highest  type  of  bravery.  The  ma- 
ternal instinct  was  strong — no  mother  could  bear  to 
see  her  child  perish  before  her  eyes.  And,  again, 
we  have  read  and  learned  by  heart — yea,  with  the 
heart — the  example  of  those  staunch  men  who  yield- 


18  CONSCIENCE. 

ed  up  their  lives  to  protect  some  oppressed  class  against 
their  oppressors,  to  redress  their  country's  wrongs, 
to  break  some  tyrant's  yoke.  The  children  in  our 
schools  flush  with  a  generous  pleasure  when  they  read 
of  the  brave  Swiss  who  took  the  spears  of  the  foeman 
to  his  breast  as  if  they  were  a  bouquet  of  flowers, 
and  reddened  them  with  the  roses  of  his  blood,  and  cried, 
"  I  will  make  a  pathway  unto  freedom."  And,  in  like 
manner,  the  oft-repeated  tales  of  Thermopylae  and  Mara- 
thon are  still  kept  green"  in  the  memory  of  generation 
after  generation.  Yet  even  these  instances  of  virtue, 
lofty  though  they  be,  are  not  the  loftiest.  The  desire 
for  glory  may  have  prompted  them,  the  hope  of  win- 
ning the  applause  of  witnessing  armies,  or  the  lau- 
rel of  posthumous  fame.  But  all  such  desires  are 
dross  mingled  with  the  gold  of  Virtue,  marring  its 
beauty  and  destroying  its  value.  Seven  times  reflned 
must  the  gold  of  Virtue  be  ere  we  will  call  it  by  the 
sacred  name  of  Virtue,  purified  of  all  motives  save  that 
of  respect  for  the  high  moral  law  itself.  We  reject  the 
standard  of  benefits  conferred,  and  hold  strictly  to  the 
motive  only.  We  reject  the  seeming  good  deed  that  is 
done  with  a  side-long  glance  at  gain,  even  if  that  gain 
be  only  the  gratification  of  vanity,  the  hearing  one's 
self  called  "  kind  man,"  "  charitable  man,"  by  one's 
flatterers.  We  reject  the  seeming  good  deed  if  it  be  the 
offspring  of  weekly  sentimentalism,  of  the  mere  irre- 
sponsible impulses  of  pity,  for  that  often  works  quite 
as  much  harm  as  good.  We  accord  only  our  measured 
approval  to  those  actions  in  which  the  natural  feelings 
that  prevail  between  kinsmen  have  been  of  influence,  for 
these  ai»e  the  workings  of  instinct,  but  morality  is  al- 


•^or- — 

CONSCIENCE.  19 

ways  the  working  of  highest  reason.  We  hold  back  our 
judgment  with  caution,  even  in  the  case  of  those  actions 
that  seem  to  carry  us  away  by  their  grandeur,  if  we 
suspect  some  refined  form  of  selfishness  to  have 
prompted  them. 

And  so  we  might  multiply  instances,  but  the  result  is 
already  plain.  The  right  for  the  right's  sake,  that  alone 
is  the  supreme  standard.  In  proportion  as  actions  ap- 
proximate to  that  standard,  they  stand  high  in  the  scale 
of  Virtue.  In  proportion  as  they  depart  from  it,  they 
become  low  and  mean.  The  right  for  the  right's  sake, 
Js  the  motto  which  every  one  should  take  for  his  own 
life.  With  that  measure  of  value,  we  can  descend  into 
our  own  hearts  and  gauge  ourselves  and  determine  in 
how  far  we  are  already  moral  beings,  in  how  far  not 
yet.  But  right  for  the  right's  sake  is  only  another  form 
for  expressing  the  independence  of  morality.  And  thus 
it  becomes  clear  that  independence  is  the  very  vital 
nerve  of  Conscience.  Who  cuts  that,  kills  Conscience ; 
who  makes  morality  depend  on  ought  beyond  its  sphere, 
destroys  morality.  We  cannot  say  be  good  because 
God  wills  it,  for  either  we  understand  by  God  supreme 
goodness,  and  then  we  really  say  be  good,  not  for  the 
sake  of  God,  but  for  the  sake  of  goodness,  or  we  under- 
stand by  God's  will  a  power  outside  of  and  above  mo- 
rality, and  that  is  an  outrageous  assertion  to  make  that 
there  can  be  a  power  higher  than  the  moral  law  which 
has  a  right  to  claim  our  obedience,  even  though  Con- 
science should  protest ;  that  leads  to  Jesuitism. 

And  so  the  outcome  of  these  first  mediations  on  Con- 
science has  been  a  statement,  the  importance  of  which 
will  grow  upon  us  as  we  proceed.     To  do  the  right  for 


20  COKSCIENCE. 

the  right's  sake,  that  is  what  makes  right  right.  TJpoTi 
the  fact  of  morality,  philosophers  have  founded  the  be- 
lief in  God  ;  but  morality  itself  takes  precedence  of  all 
beliefs.  It  is  primal,  it  is  sovereign,  it  is  the  central 
reality  of  the  universe.  This  one  fundamental  fact  of 
the  independence  of  Conscience,  is  what  I  sought  to-day 
to  bring  into  prominent  relief.  And  will  you  permit 
me  to  point  in  conclusion  to  one  other  circumstance 
which  confirms  my  statements. 

I  have  lately  travelled  over  the  great  plains,  and  have 
seen  here  and  there  bleached  bones  marking  the  spot 
where  some  pioneer  was  stricken  down  on  the  long  road 
to  the  Golden  Land ;  so  on  the  great  plains  of  history 
the  pioneers  of  human  progress  have  been  stricken  down 
on  their  way  to  the  land  of  their  hopes,  and  we  delight  to 
remember  their  heroism.  Why  do  we  love  these  men  ? 
Why  is  the  book  of  martyrs  still  tlie  golden  book  of 
mankind  ?  Because,  in  the  case  of  the  martyr  we  recog- 
nize what  a  sublime  presence  Conscience  is  in  the  soul, 
since  it  induces  men  to  offer  up  life  itself  for  its  sake ; 
because,  in  the  case  of  martyrs,  we  are  almost  certain  that 
no  selfish  motive  actuated  them,  since  thej^  had  ample 
time  for  deliberation,  since  they  saw  the  instruments 
prepared  for  their  pain,  since  they  did  not  rush  on  death 
in  the  smoke  and  excitement  of  a  battle-field,  but  met  him 
slowly  with  all  his  terrors  about  him,  when  it  would  have 
cost  them  only  a  single  word  to  be  free  from  their  per- 
secutors But  that  word  meant  betrayal  of  principle,  and 
it  was  not  uttered.  I  think  now  of  all  who  were  martyrs 
in  the  true  sense.  I  remember  the  martyrs  of  science 
to  whom  our  heart  goes  out  with  deepest  gratitude.  1 
remember  Socrates  drinking  the  hemlock  in  the  Athenian 


CONSCIENCE.  21 

prison.  I  remember  the  Christian  martyrs  who  held  a 
faith  which  we  do  not  share,  yet  whom  we  venerate 
none  the  less  sincerely  on  that  account,  the  mighty  Huss, 
the  angust  Jerome,  his  companion  in  aspiration  and  in 
fate.  I  remember  also  one  of  the  despised  race  of  the 
Jews,  who  is  not  known  as  those  others,  but  who  dc" 
serves  to  be  ranked  with  the  great  and  good,  and  whose 
story  I  long  to  tell  in  closing. 

He  was  a  young  man  of  twenty-five  years  of  age. 
He  was  highly  connected,  highly  gifted,  learned,  and 
what  was  better — loved.  He  heard  that  his  people  were 
persecuted  in  a  far  land,  and  he  set  sail  to  aid  in  freeing 
them.  In  a  certain  Portuguese  port  the  vessel  in  which 
DeCastro  sailed  was  boarded  by  the  officers  of  the  In- 
quisition ;  he  was  dragged  to  Lisbon  and  cast  into  prison. 
The  inquisitors  were  anxious  to  save  him,  and  win  him 
over  to  their  faith.  They  promised,  they  besought,  they 
threatened,  they  tortured  him  in  vain.  At  last  they 
condemned  him  to  die  by  fire. 

It  was  a  morning  late  in  December,  of  the  year 
1647.  An  eager  crowd  was  moving  through  the  streets 
of  Lisbon  to  the  great  piazza.  It  was  near  the  time  of 
the  birth  of  Christ.  There  was  to  be  a  great  festival 
that  day — an  auto-da-fe — in  honor  of  the  god  of  love. 
A  dense  multitude  was  now  gathered,  the  procession  ad- 
vanced, the  priests  in  their  long  robes,  the  soldiery — in 
their  midst  De  Castro.  He  stood  still  and  calm  on  the 
place  of  execution.  The  fagots  were  heaped  about  him. 
The  priest  showed  him  the  crucifix,  and  cried,  "  Repent, 
recant."  He  answered  not  a  word.  Then  the  burning 
brand  was  thrown  upon  the  wood,  the  fagots  caught,  the 
flame  mounted  upward,  the  smoke  curled  and  wreathed 


22  CONSCIENCE. 

about  its  victim,  and  a  great  hush  fell  upon  the  throng. 
Then,  from  out  the  flames  and  the  smoke  rang  out  into 
the  silence  these  words  :  ''  Hear,  Israel !  God,  our  God,  is 
one  !  "  and  not  an  eye  remained  tearless  in  that  great  as- 
sembly, and  the  flames  sank  down,  and  silently  the  mul- 
titude went  to  their  homes,  and  whispered  one  to  an- 
other those  terrible  words  which  sounded  like  an  ac- 
cusing conscience  in  their  ears.  Hear,  Israel !  and  so  pro- 
found was  the  impression  that  the  oflicers  of  the  Inqui- 
sition forbade,  under  a  heavy  penalty,  that  the  words. 
Hear,  Israel,  should  be  uttered  in  the  streets  of  Lisbon. 
It  is  not,  friends,  what  men  hold  true  that  liere  con- 
cerns us,  but  that  they  should  be  so  faithful  to  that 
which  they  hold  true,  Jew  or  Christian,  believer  and 
unbeliever  alike.  Times  change,  beliefs  alter  or  are  for- 
gotten, the  religious  formula  of  yesterday  may  prove 
insufficient  to  the  impatient  children  of  to-day,  but  that 
devotion  to  principle  which  those  "witnesses"  exhibited 
is  itself  the  pith  of  religion.  And  may  that  be  ours  in 
the  new  age,  that  we  also  may  be  willing  to  die  for  our 
principles,  if  that  supreme  test  should  ever  again  be  re- 
quired ;  nay,  better  than  to  die  for  our  principles,  that 
we  may  be  willing  at  all  times  to  live  for  our  princvples^ 
for  that  is  greater  and  nobler  stiU. 


Creed  and  Deed 


A    SERIES    OF    DISCOURSES 


FELIX  ABLER,  Ph.  D. 


epycp  Hov  Xoycp 

— Aeschylus^  Prometh.  Vinct.  I.jj6, 


NEW  YORK 

J^UBLISHED    FOR  THE  ^OCIETY    FOR   ^THICAL  pULTUI^B 
BY 

G.    P.    PUTNAM'S    SONS 
1880 


At 


••  V  FEJ.r^   kb'tE^f,    Ph.   D. 


•••  •  ••••    •••;    ,    ••  • 


GIFT  OF 
GLADYS     /SAAO30N 


PREFATORY  NOTICE. 


The  lectures  contained  in  the  following  pages 
are  published  by  request  of  the  society  before  which 
they  were  delivered.  Those  on  Immortality  and 
Religion  have  been  considerably  abridged  and  con- 
densed. The  remainder  have  been  allowed  to  retain 
their  original  form  without  any  serious  modification. 
The  First  Anniversary  Discourse  reviews  the  work 
of  the  year,  and  gives  a  brief  account  of  the  motives 
which  impelled  the  society  to  organize  and  of  the 
general  animus  by  which  its  labors  are  directed. 
The  Lecture  entitled  The  Form  of  the  Ideal  fore- 
shadows the  constructive  purpose  of  the  movement. 
The  articles  on  The  Evolution  of  Hebrew  Religion 
and  Reformed  Judaism  from  the  Popular  Science 
Monthly  {Septejnber,  1876)  and  the  North  Americait 
Review  {^July-August  and  September-October)  con- 
tain the  substance  of  several  of  the  lectures  of  last 
winter's  course,  and  are  reprinted  in  the  appendix 
with  the  kind  consent  of  the  editors.  Rigid  adher- 
ence to  the  requirements  of  systematic  exposition  is 

i^27865 


IV  PREFATORY   NOTICE. 

neither  possible  nor  desirable  in  addresses  of  this 
kind  and  has  not  therefore  been  attempted. 

In  giving  this  volume  to  the  public  I  gladly 
embrace  the  opportunity  of  expressing  my  sincere 
gratitude  to  those  faithful  and  self-sacrificing  friends 
whose  indefatigable  labors  have  gone  so  far  to  win 
for  a  hazardous  venture  the  promise  of  assured  per- 
manence and  satisfactory  development. 

Felix  Adler, 

New  Yorkf  September ^  ^^77* 


/ 


yh 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I     Immortality i 

II.    Religion , . . .     37 

III.    The  New  Ideal 63 

IV.    The  Priest  of  the  Ideal 76 

V.    The  Form  of  the  New  Ideal 90 

VI,    The  Religious  Conservatism  of  Women 104 

VII.    Our  Consolations 118 

VIII.    Spinoza 133 

IX.    The  Founder  of  Christianity 150 

X.    The  Anniversary  Discourse 167 


APPENDIX. 

I.    The  Evolution  of  Hebrew  Religion 183 

II.    Reformed  Judaism,  I  II 202 

III.    Reformed  Judaism,  III 218 


CREED    AND    DEED. 


I.   ■■'■  A  ^  ;;;v^:;;Kn 

IMMORTALITY. 

*'  Xot  by  the  Creed  but  by  the  Deed,'* 

The  Society  which  I  have  the  privilege  of 
addressing  has  been  organized  with  the  above  for 
its  motto.  Some  of  my  hearers  have  entirely  aban- 
doned the  tenets  of  the  positive  religions ;  others 
continue  to  hold  them  true,  but  are  discouraged  by 
the  lack  of  spiritual  force,  the  prominence  given  to 
mere  externals,  the  barren  formalism  in  the  churches 
and  synagogues.  We  agree  in  believing  that  the- 
ology is  flourishing  at  the  expense  of  religion.  It 
seems  to  us  that  differences  in  creed  are  constantly 
increasing,  and  will  continue  to  multiply  with  the 
growth  and  differentiation  of  the  human  intellect. 
We  perceive  that  every  attempt  to  settle  problems 
of  faith  has  thus  far  signally  failed,  nor  can  we  hope 
for  better  results  in  the  future.  Certainty  even 
with  regard  to  the  essential  dogmas  appears  to  us 
impossible.     We  do  not  therefore  deny  dogma,  but 


2  CREED  AND  DEED. 

prefer  to  remit  it  to  the  sphere  of  individual  con- 
viction with  which  public  associations  should  have 
no  concern.  Far  from  believing  that  the  doctrines 
of  religion  as  commonly  taught  are  essential  to  the 
well  being  of  society,  we  apprehend  that  the  disputes 
concerning  the  **  aathor  of  the  law  '*  have  diverted 
tJi^e.sittentioniQf  iii^rx  from  the  law  itself,  and  that  the 
^Q-Qall^d^dut:i;es  :tQ\yard  God  too  often  interfere  with 
'the'pirbp'er  'performance  of  our  duties  toward  one 
another.  It  were  better  to  insist  less  upon  a  right 
belief,  and  more  upon  right  action. 

In  order  to  find  a  common  basis  whereon  good 
men,  whether  believers  or  unbelievers,  can  unite,  we 
look  to  the  moral  law  itself,  whose  certainty  rests  in 
the  universal  experience  of  civilized  humanity.  We 
shall  hold  questions  of  faith  in  abeyance,  shall  en- 
deavor to  stimulate  the  conscience  and  to  this  end 
shall  seek  to  awaken  an  interest  in  the  grave  social 
problems  of  our  day,  which  need  nothing  so  much  as 
a  vigorous  exertion  of  our  moral  energies,  in  order 
to  arrive  at  a  peaceable  solution.  To  broaden  and 
deepen  the  ethical  sentiment  in  ourselves,  and  to 
hold  up  to  the  sad  realities  of  the  times,  the  mirror 
of  the  ideal  life,  is  the  object  with  which  we  set  out. 
We  do  not  therefore  delude  ourselves  with  the  hope 
that  the  ideal  will  ever  be  fully  realized,  but  are  con- 
vinced that  in  aspiring  to  noble  ends  the  soul  will 
take  on  something  of  the  grandeur  of  what  it  truly 


IMMORTALITY.  3 

admires.  Starting  with  the  assumption  that  the 
doctrines  of  religion  are  incapable  of  proof,  it 
behooves  us  to  show  in  one  or  more  instances  the 
fallacy  of  the  arguments  upon  which  they  are  com- 
monly founded,  and  we  shall  begin  with  the  doc- 
trine of  IMMORTALITY. 


In  approaching  our  subject  we  are  first  confront- 
ed by  the  argument  from  the  common  consent  of 
mankind.  Like  the  belief  in  God,  the  hope  of 
immortality  is  said  to  be  implanted  in  every  human 
heart,  and  the  experience  of  travellers  is  cited  to 
show  that  even  the  most  barbarous  races  have  given 
it  expression  in  some  form,  however  crude.  Aside 
from  the  fact  that  the  statement,  as  it  stands,  is 
somewhat  exaggerated,  we  will  admit  that  the 
belief  in  a  future  state  is  widely  current  among 
savage  tribes.  But  the  value  of  this  testimony 
becomes  extremely  doubtful  on  closer  inspection. 
A  brief  account  of  the  origin  of  the  conception  of 
soul  among  our  primitive  ancestors,  will  make  this 
plain. 

If  we  observe  a  child  in  its  sleep,  some  half  artic- 
ulate word,  some  cry  or  gesture  occasionally  reveals 
to  us  the  vividness  of  the  dreams  with  which  the 
Httle  brain  is  teeming.  It  is  hardly  doubtful 
that  the  child  mistakes  the  visions  of  its  dream  for 


4  CREED   AND   DEED. 

actual  occurrences,  and  attaches  the  same  reality  to 
these  miasmas  of  the  stagnant  night  as  to  the  clear 
prospects  of  daylight  reason.  Even  the  adult  some- 
times finds  it  difficult  to  clear  his  brain  of  the  fancies 
which  occupied  it  in  the  hours  of  sleep.  And  the 
test  of  large  experience  can  alone  enable  him  to 
distinguish  between  fact  and  phantom.  I  call  atten- 
tion to  these  facts,  because  the  phenomena  of  sleep 
and  dreams  seem  to  offer  a  satisfactory  clue  to  the 
naive  theories  of  the  lower  races  concerning  death 
and  the  after  life.  The  savage  indeed  is  the  veritable 
child-man.  His  ardent  emotions,  his  crude  logic, 
the  eagerness  with  which  he  questions  the  how  and 
wherefore  of  nature,  and  the  comparative  ease  with 
which  his  simple  understanding  accepts  the  most 
fanciful  solutions,  all  combine  to  place  him  on  the 
level  of  the  child. 

Aware  that  the  body  in  sleep  is  at  rest,  while  at 
the  same  time  the  sleeper  is  conscious  of  acting  and 
suffering,  visiting  distant  regions  perhaps,  conver- 
sing with  friends,  engaging  in  battle  with  enemies, 
the  savage  reasoned  that  there  must  be  a  man  with- 
in the  man,  as  it  were, — an  airy  counterfeit  of  man 
which  leaves  its  grosser  tenement  in  the  night,  and 
in  the  course  of  its  wanderings  experiences  whatever 
the  fortunes  of  the  dream  may  chance  to  be. 
Instances  are  related  where  the  body  was  prema- 
turely disturbed,  the  inner  man  was  prevented  from 


IMMORTALITY.  5 

returning  to  his  envelope,  and  death  resulted.  The 
shadow  cast  by  the  human  figure,  an  attenuated 
image  of  man,  connected  with  the  body  and  yet 
distinct  from  it,  afforded  a  curious  confirmation  of 
this  artless  theory.  The  Basutos  *  affirm  that  a  per- 
son having  on  one  occasion  incautiously  approached 
the  bank  of  a  river,  his  shadow  was  seized  by  a 
crocodile,  and  he  died  in  consequence.  The  story 
of  shadowless  or  soulless  men  has  been  made  famil- 
iar to  modern  literature  by  Chamisso*s  well  known 
tale.f  The  spectral  man  who  severs  his  connec- 
tion with  the  body  during  sleep,  remains  concealed 
within  it  during  the  hours  of  waking,  and  in  this 
manner,  the  idea  of  a  human  soul  as  distinct  from 
the  body,  takes  its  rise.:j:  It  is  easy  to  see  how  by 
extending  the  analogy,  what  we  call  death  must 
have  appeared  as  only  another  form  of  sleep,  and 
how  the  theory  of  dreams  gave  rise  to  a  belief  in 
the  continuance  of  life  beyond  the  grave.  That 
sleep  and  death  are  twin  brothers,  was  to  the  prim- 
itive man  more  than  mere  metaphor.  As  in  sleep, 
so  in  death,  the  body  is  at  rest,  but  as  in  sleep,  so 

*  The  dream  theory  seems  to  be  the  one  generally  adopted  by 
writers  on  primitive  culture.  For  an  extended  account  of  this  sub- 
ject vide  the  works  of  Tylor,  Lubbock  and  Bastian,  from  which  the 
illustrations  given  in  the  text  are  taken. 

t  Peter  Schlemihl. 

X  The  soul  was  believed  to  be  corporeal  in  nature,  only  more 
vague  and  shadowy  than  the  framework  of  the  body,  and  distinguished 
by  greater  swiftness  of  locomotion. 


6  CREED  AND   DEED. 

also  in  death,  a  shade  was  supposed  to  go  forth  capa- 
ble of  acting  and  suffering,  and  yearning  to  return 
to  its  former  condition.  The  apparitions  of  the 
deceased  seen  at  night  by  the  friends  they  had  left 
behind,  were  taken  to  be  real  visitations,  and  cor- 
roborated the  assumption  of  the  continued  existence 
of  the  departed.  The  ghosts  of  the  dead  were  dream- 
ing phantoms,  debarred  from  permanently  returning 
to  their  abandoned  bodies. 

The  view  we  have  taken  of  the  origin  of  the 
conception  of  soul  is  greatly  strengthened  when  we 
consider  the  thoroughly  material  character  of  the 
ghost*s  life  after  death.  The  ghost  continues  to  be 
liable  to  hunger,  pain,  cold,  as  before.  But  the  living 
have  shut  it  out  from  their  communion ;  in  conse- 
quence it  hates  its  former  companions,  persecutes 
them  where  it  can,  and  wreaks  its  vengeance  upon 
them  when  they  are  least  prepared  to  resist  it.  In  a 
certain  district  of  Germany  it  was  believed  that  the 
dead  person,  when  troubled  by  the  pangs  of  hunger, 
begins  by  gnawing  its  shroud  until  that  is  com- 
pletely devoured,  then  rising  from  the  grave,  it 
stalks  through  the  village  and  in  the  shape  of  a 
vampire,  sits  upon  the  children  in  their  cradles,  and 
sucks  their  blood.  When  sated  with  the  hideous 
feast,  it  returns  to  the  churchyard  to  renew  its  visits 
on  the  succeeding  nights.  In  order  to  hinder  them 
from  using  their  jaws,  it  was  customary  to  place 


IMMORTALITY.  7 

stones  or  coins  into  the  mouths  of  the  dead  before 
burial  and  the  most  grotesque  devices  were  resorted 
to,  to  prevent  the  much  dreaded  return  of  the  deni- 
zens of  the  tomb.  In  the  middle  ages  the  corpse 
was  often  spiked  down  to  hinder  its  rising.  Among 
the  Hottentots  a  hole  was  broken  into  the  wall, 
through  which  the  corpse  was  carried  from  the 
house,  and  then  carefully  covered  up,  it  being  the 
prevailing  superstition,  that  the  dead  can  only 
reenter  by  the  same  way  in  which  they  have  pre- 
viously made  their  exit.  Among  a  certain  negro 
tribe  of  Africa,  the  path  from  the  house  to  the  grave 
was  strewn  with  thorns,  in  the  hope  that  the  ghost 
would  find  the  path  too  painful,  and  desist.  As  late 
as  i86i,  it  occurred  in  a  village  in  Gallicia,  that  the 
ghost  of  a  dead  peasant  was  found  to  pursue  the 
living,  and  the  inhabitants  rushing  out  to  the  grave 
fearfully  mutilated  the  body,  to  prevent  it  from 
committing  further  injury. 

The  same  conception,  from  a  more  charitable 
point  of  view,  led  to  the  institution  of  regular  meals 
for  the  ghosts  at  stated  intervals.  In  North-eastern 
India,  after  the  body  has  been  consigned  to  its  final 
resting-place,  a  friend  of  the  deceased  steps  forward, 
and  holding  food  and  drink  in  his  hand,  speaks  the 
following  suggestive  words,  **  Take  and  eat ;  hereto- 
fore you  have  eaten  and  drunk  with  us,  you  can  do 
so  no  more ;  you  were  one  of  us,  you  can  be  so  no 


8  CREED   AND   DEED. 

longer  ;  we  come  no  more  to  you  ;  come  you  not  to 
us."  In  Eastern  Africa,  the  Wanicas  are  accustomed 
to  fill  a  cocoa-nut  shell  with  rice  and  tembo,  and 
place  it  near  the  (T^ave.  In  the  Congo  district,  a 
channel  is  dug  into  the  grave  leading  to  the  mouth 
of  the  corpse,  by  which  means  food  and  drink  are 
duly  conveyed.  The  sense  of  decorum  impels  cer- 
tain Turanian  tribes  to  place  not  only  food,  but 
even  napkins,  on  the  graves  of  their  relatives.  We 
cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  quoting  the  following 
passage  from  Mr.  Tylor's  graphic  account  of  the 
manner  in  which  the  Chinese  feast  their  ghostly 
visitors.  *^  Some  victuals  are  left  over  for  any  bHnd 
or  feeble  spirit  who  may  be  late,  and  a  pail  of  gruel 
is  provided  for  headless  souls,  with  spoons  for  them 
to  put  it  down  their  throats  with.  Such  proceedings 
culminate  in  the  so-called  Universal  Rescue,  now 
and  then  celebrated,  when  a  little  house  is  built  for 
the  expected  visitors,  with  separate  accommodations, 
and  bath  rooms  for  male  and  female  ghosts."  *  In 
the  Alpach  Valley  of  Tyrol,  ghosts  released  from 
purgatory  on  the  night  of  All  Souls,  return  to  the 
houses  of  the  peasantry.  A  light  is  left  burning  in 
the  dining  room,  and  a  certain  cake,  prepared  for 
the  occasion,  is  placed  upon  the  table  for  their  delec- 
tation, also  a  pot  of  grease  for  the  poor  souls  to 
anoint  their  wounds  with. 

*  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  ii,  p.  34. 


IMMORTALITY.  9 

Occasionally,  to  obviate  the  necessity  of  con- 
tinued attendance  upon  the  dead,  a  single  sumptuous 
feast  is  provided  immediately  after  their  demise, 
and  this  is  believed  to  cancel  their  claims  once  for 
all.  In  this  manner  arose  ti*e  custom  of  funerai 
banquets.  In  England,  in  the  fifteenth  century,  a 
noisy  revel  of  three  days*  duration  attended  the 
obsequies  of  Sir  John  Paston.  The  so-called  Irish 
wake  originated  in  the  same  way.  After  the  first 
outbreaks  of  grief  have  subsided,  meat  and  drink 
are  brought  in,  chiefly  the  latter,  and  what  was  at 
first  intended  for  a  parting  entertainment  to  the 
dead,  often  ends  in  the  boisterous  excesses  of  the 
living. 

It  is  here  proper  to  remark  that  the  savage 
tribes  who  believe  in  an  after  existence,  do  not  in 
many  instances  claim  this  privilege  for  themselves 
alone,  but  share  it  willingly  with  the  lower  animals 
and  even  with  inanimate  objects.  Weapons,  uten- 
sils, and  even  victuals — have  their  ghostly  repre- 
sentatives like  men.  When  a  great  chief  dies,  his 
widow  is  often  forced  by  public  opinion  to  follow 
him  to  the  grave,  in  order  that  the  departed  brave 
may  not  be  wifeless  in  the  hereafter.  But  besides 
the  widow,  his  horse,  his  war-club,  his  girdle,  his 
favorite  trinkets  are  buried  or  burned  with  him  to 
serve  his  use  or  vanity  in  spectre-land. 

From  what  has  preceded,  it  must  be  clear  that 


lO  CREED   AND   DEED. 

the  savage's  conception  of  a  ghost  bears  but  a  faint 
and  distant  resemblance  to  the  idea  of  soul,  as  it 
became  current  in  the  schools  of  philosophy ;  nor 
can  the  latter  derive  support  from  the  ignorant  rea- 
sonings, the  hasty  inductions  of  primitive  man.  On 
the  lower  levels  of  culture  the  idea  of  immortality 
indeed  is  quite  unknown.  If  the  ghost  continues 
its  shadowy  existence  after  death,  it  is  none  the 
less  liable  to  come  to  an  abrupt  end,  and  then  noth- 
ing whatever  of  its  former  substance  remains ;  it 
is  a  pale,  filmy  thing,  exposed  to  the  inroads  of  the 
hostile  elements,  surrounded  by  numerous  dangers, 
to  which  it  may  at  any  moment  succumb.  In  the 
Tonga  Islands  only  the  souls  of  the  well-born  are 
supposed  to  survive  at  all.  The  common  people 
have  no  souls  worth  speaking  of,  and  when  they  die, 
are  completely  extinguished.  The  ghosts  of  Guinea 
negroes  are  compelled  to  approach  the  bank  of  the 
terrible  river  of  death.  Some  of  them  are  there- 
upon wafted  across  to  lead  pleasant  lives  on  the  op- 
posite side,  others  are  drowned  in  the  stream,  or 
beaten  to  atoms  with  a  club.  With  the  Fijians  it 
is  always  a  matter  of  doubt  whether  a  soul  will  suc- 
ceed at  all  in  maintaining  its  feeble  existence  after 
it  has  left  its  protecting  house  of  sinew  and  bone. 
But  they  open  a  peculiarly  dismal  prospect  to  wife- 
less souls.  Nanananga,  a  fierce  demoniac  being, 
watches  for  them  on  the  shore  as  they  approach, 


IMMORTALITY.  1 1 

and  dashes  them  to  pieces  upon  the  rocks.  The 
Greenlanders  affirm  that  after  death  the  soul  enters 
upon  a  long,  lone  journey  over  a  mountain  full  of 
precipitous  descents,  covered  with  ice  and  snow. 
The  storms  howl  about  its  path,  and  every  step  is 
fraught  with  pain  and  danger.  If  any  harm  hap- 
pens to  the  poor  wanderer  here,  then  it  dies  "  the 
other  death  *'  from  which  there  is  no  re-awakening. 

In  the  theories  of  a  future  state,  as  devised  by 
the  lower  races,  we  are  at  a  loss  to  detect  the  germs 
of  any  more  spiritual  longings.  Far  from  looking 
forward  with  pleased  anticipation  or  confidence  to 
the  world  to  come,  the  barbarian  shuddered  as  he 
thought  of  his  approaching  end,  and  was  loath  to 
exchange  the  white  and  sunny  world  for  the  dreary 
companionship  of  luckless  shades.  The  life  that 
awaited  him  was  not  in  the  majority  of  instances  a 
better  or  a  higher  life  than  this  ;  not  free  from  the 
limitations  of  sense  ;  no  larger  perfecting  of  what 
is  here  dwarfed  and  crippled ;  it  was  lower,  poorer, 
meaner;  it  was  to  the  present,  what  the  pressed 
flower  is  to  the  full-blown  rose ;  the  same  in  sub- 
stance, indeed,  but  with  its  beauty  perished,  and  its 
joyous  fragrance  evanesced. 

The  argument  from  the  common  consent  of 
mankind  in  truth  deserves  no    serious  attention.'^ 

*  The  doctrine  of  spiritual  immortality  is  not  common  to  the  human 
race.     The  material  life  of  the  ghost  bears  no  analogy  to  what  we 


12  CREED  AND   DEED. 

The  argument  cannot  be  substantiated,  it  would 
prove  nothing,  if  it  could.  The  general  concurrence 
of  the  whole  human  race  in  any  form  of  error  would 
not  make  that  error  less  erroneous,  and  the  testi- 
mony of  united  millions  against  a  solitary  thinker 
might  kick  the  beam  when  balanced  in  the  scales 
of  truth. 


When  we  behold  an  ignorant  knave  squandering 
his  ill-gotten  gains  on  superfluities,  while  honest 
people  are  famishing  for  want  of  the  necessaries ; 
when  we  see  the  unscrupulous  politician  outstrip- 
ping the  deserving  statesman,  in  the  race  for  fame 
and  station ;  when  modest  merit  shrinks  in  corners, 
and  the  native  royalty  of  talent  plays  courtier  to 
the  kings  of  lucre,  we  are  reminded  of  the  complaint 
of  Job,  that  the  bad  prosper,  and  the  righteous  are 
down-trodden,  yet  that  they  sleep  together  in  the 
dust  and  the  worm  covers  them  alike. 

This  evident  disparity  between  virtue  and  happi- 
ness has  led  men  to  take  refuge  in  the  thought  of 
compensation  hereafter,  and  the  necessity  of  a 
future  state  in  which  the  good  shall  be  rewarded, 
and  the  evil  punished,  according  to  the  verdict  of  a 
just  judge,  has  been  deduced  even  from  the  appar- 
ent injustice  of  the  present.     Thus  the  very  imper- 

mean  by  the  soul's  continuance.     The  continuance  of  the  ghost's  exist- 
ence is  not  an  immortal  continuance. 


IMMORTALITY.  1 3 

fections  of  our  own  life  on  earth,  afford  a  pretext 
for  the  most  ambitious  conceptions  of  human 
destiny. 

The  argument  from  the  necessity  of  reward  and 
punishment  is  extremely  popular  among  the  uned- 
ucated, since  it  •  appeals  ostensibly  to  their  sense  of 
justice  and  assures  them  that  by  the  aid  of  Divine 
omnipotence,  a  full  correspondence  between  worthi- 
ness and  happiness,  though  vainly  expected  here, 
will  be  established  in  another  sphere.  It  behooves 
us  to  enquire  whether  there  is  anything  in  the 
nature  of  virtue,  that  demands  a  correspondence  of 
this  kind. 

The  philosopher  Epicurus  was  perhaps  the  first 
among  the  ancients  to  take  strong  ground  in  favor 
of  the  utilitarian  view  of  virtue.  Pleasure,  he  holds, 
is  the  purpose  of  existence,  and  virtue  is  thus  re- 
duced to  enlightened  self-interest.  There  are  differ- 
ent kinds  of  pleasure ;  pleasures  of  the  senses  and  of 
the  soul.  Epicurus  points  out  that  the  former  can- 
not be  considered  true  pleasures,  since  they  defeat 
their  own  end,  blunting  the  capacity  of  enjoyment 
in  proportion  as  they  are  indulged,  and  incapable 
of  affording  permanent  satisfaction.  Himself  a 
man  of  refined  tastes  and  fastidious  habits,  he 
shrank  from  the  very  coarseness  of  the  passions, 
and  counselled  moderation,  friendship  and  benevo- 
lence.    But  he  refused  to  recognize  in  these  virtues 


14  CREED   AND   DEED. 

any  intrinsic  value  of  their  own,  and  lauded  them 
only  because  in  contrast  to  the  lower  appetites,  the 
enjoyment  they  afford  is  lasting  and  constantly 
increases  with  their  exercise.  It  is  easy  to  perceive 
that  when  the  moral  law  is  thus  stripped  of  its 
authority  to  command,  the  choice,  between  duty 
and  inclination  will  be  governed  by  fortuitous  pref- 
erences, and  not  by  principle.  It  then  remains  for 
each  individual  to  decide  what  form  of  pleasure  may 
be  most  congenial  to  his  temper  and  desires.  The 
philosopher  will  value  the  delights  of  contemplative 
ease,  and  of  kindly  communion  with  his  fellow-men ; 
the  passionate  youth  may  hold  that  a  single  deep 
draught  from  the  chalice  of  sensual  pleasure  is  worth 
more  than  a  whole  lifetime  of  neutral  self-restraint ; 
"  eat  and  drink'*  will  be  his  motto;  *^ remote  conse- 
quences— who  knows  ?  To-morrow  we  may  die." 
Moreover  the  doctrine  of  enlightened  self-interest 
has  this  fatal  objection  to  it,  that  if  consistently 
applied,  at  least  among  the  powerful  of  the  earth,  it 
would  lead  to  consequences  the  very  reverse  of 
moral.  It  is  but  too  true  that  honesty  is  not  always 
the  best  policy ;  that  fraud  and  violence,  when  per- 
petrated on  a  scale  of  sufficient  magnitude,  (instance 
the  division  of  unfortunate  Poland,)  are  not  always 
punished  as  they  deserve  to  be.  Far  from  teaching 
the  tyrant  to  subdue  his  baser  instincts,  enlightened 
self-interest   might   rather    lead   him   to   stifle  the 


IMMORTALITY.  1$ 

accusing  voice  of  conscience,  and  to  root  out  the 
scruples  that  interfere  with  his  ambition.  Unless 
we  concede  that  the  moral  law  has  a  claim  upon  us 
which  the  constitution  of  our  nature  does  not  per- 
mit us  to  deny  with  impunity,  and  that  its  pleasures 
differ,  not  only  in  degree,  but  in  kind,  from  all 
others,  virtue,  while  a  necessity  to  the  weak,  becomes 
folly  in  the  strong;  and  Napoleon,  that  gigantic 
egotist,  was  correct,  when  he  called  love  a  silly  in- 
fatuation, and  sentiment  a  thing  for  women. 

The  principles  of  Epicurus  not  only  adulterate 
the  motives  of  goodness  with  the  desire  of  reward, 
but  they  make  the  reward  of  desire  the  very  sanc- 
tion of  all  virtue,  and  thus  deprive  human  nature  of 
its  best  title  to  nobility. 

Truly  disinterestedness  is  the  distinguishing 
mark  of  every  high  endeavor.  The  pursuit  of  the 
artist  is  unselfish,  the  beauty  he  creates  is  his 
reward.  The  toil  of  the  scientist  in  the  pur- 
suit of  abstract  truth  is  unselfish,  the  truth  he 
sees  is  his  reward.  Why  should  we  hesitate  to 
acknowledge  in  the  domain  of  ethics,  what  we  con- 
cede in  the  realm  of  art  and  science  ?  To  say  that 
unselfishness  itself  is  only  the  more  refined  expres- 
sion of  a  selfish  instinct,  is  to  use  the  term  selfish 
with  a  double  meaning,  is  a  mere  empty  play  on 
words.  We  have  the  innate  need  of  harmony  in 
the  moral  relations  ;  this  is  our  glory,  and  the  stamp 


1 6  CREED   AND   DEED. 

of  the  Divine  upon  our  nature.  We  cannot  demon- 
strate the  existence  of  disinterested  motives,  any 
more  than  we  can  demonstrate  that  there  is  joy  in 
the  sunlight  and  freedom  in  the  mountain  breeze. 
The  fact  that  we  demand  unselfishness  in  action 
alone  assures  us  that  the  standard  of  enlightened 
self-interest  is  false. 

And  indeed  if  we  consult  the  opinions  of  men, 
where  they  are  least  likely  to  be  warped  by  sophis- 
try, we  shall  find  that  disinterestedness  is  the  uni- 
versal criterion  by  which  moral  worth  is  measured. 
If  we  suspect  the  motive  we  condemn  the  act.  If  a 
person  gives  largely  for  some  object  of  public  useful 
ness  or  charity,  we  do  not  permit  the  munificence 
of  the  gift  to  deceive  our  judgment.  Perhaps  he  is 
merely  desirous  of  vaunting  his  wealth,  perhaps  it 
is  social  standing  he  aims  at,  perhaps  he  is  covetous 
of  fame.  If  these  suspicions  prove  well  founded, 
the  very  men  who  accept  his  bounty  will  in  their 
secret  hearts  despise  him,  and  by  a  certain  revulsion 
of  feeling  we  shall  resent  his  action  all  the  more, 
because,  not  only  is  he  destitute  of  honorable  pur- 
pose, but  he  has  filched  the  fair  front  of  virtue,  and 
defiled  the  laurel  even  in  the  wearing  of  it. 

We  do  not  even  accord  the  name  of  goodness  to 
that  easy,  amiable  sympathy  which  leads  us  to 
alleviate  the  sufferings  of  others,  unless  it  be 
guided  by  wise  regard  for  their  permanent   welfare. 


IMMORTALITY.  1 7 

The  tattered  clothes,  the  haggard  looks,  the  piteous 
pleading  voice  of  the  pauper  on  the  public  highway- 
may  awaken  our  pity,  but  the  system  of  indiscrim- 
inate alms-giving  is  justly  condemned  as  a  weakness 
rather  than  a  virtue. 

On  the  other  hand  obedience  to  duty,  when  it 
involves  pain  and  self-abnegation,  seems  to  rise  in 
the  general  estimation.  Clearly  because  in  this 
instance  even  the  suspicion  of  interested  motives 
is  removed,  since  hardship,  injury  in  estate  and 
happiness,  and  even  the  possible  loss  of  life,  are 
among  the  foreseen  consequences  of  the  act.  It  is 
for  this  reason  that  the  Book  of  Martyrs  has  become 
the  golden  book  of  mankind,  and  that  the  story  of 
their  lives  never  fails  to  fill  us  with  mingled  sorrow, 
and  admiration,  and  pride.  They  are  monuments 
on  the  field  of  history,  milestones  on  the  path  of 
human  progress.  We  regard  them  and  gain  new 
courage  and  confidence  in  our  better  selves.  The 
blazing  pyre  on  the  Campo  Fiore,  whereon  Giordano 
Bruno  breathes  his  last,  becomes  a  beacon-light  for 
the  truth-seeker;  the  dying  Socrates  still  pours 
benignant  peace  over  many  a  sufiferer^s  couch ;  the 
Man  of  sorrows,  on  Calvary,  comforts  the  hearts  of 
the  Christian  millions.  In  the  presence  of  these 
high  examples  the  inadequacy  of  the  selfish  standard 
becomes  clearly  apparent.  We  recognize  what  a 
sublime  quality  that  is  in  man  which  enables  him. 


1 8  CREED   AND   DEED. 

not  only  to  triumph  over  torment  and  suffering,  but 
to  devote  his  very  self  to  destruction  for  the  sake  of 
honor  and  truth.  Freely  must  virtue  be  wooed, 
not  for  the  dowry  she  may  bring;  by  loyal 
devotion  to  her  for  her  own  sake  only,  can  she  be 
won  ! 

If  thus  it  appears  that  not  only  is  there  nothing 
in  the  nature  of  virtue  to  warrant  a  claim  to  reward, 
but  that  it  is  her  very  nature  to  disclaim  any  reward, 
it  will  become  plain  that  the  problem,  as  stated  in 
the  beginning,  rests  upon  an  entirely  false  foun- 
dation. That  the  unrighteous  and  unprincipled 
should  enjoy  temporal  happiness,  does  not  offend 
the  law  of  justice.  That  you,  my  good  sir,  honest 
in  all  your  dealings,  truthful  in  all  your  acts,  should 
be  unhappy,  is  greatly  to  be  deplored.  Why  evil 
and  unhappiness  should  have  been  allowed  at  all  to 
enter  a  world  created  by  an  all  good  and  all  power- 
ful Being  may  fairly  be  asked.  Why  those  who 
possess  the  treasure  of  a  clear  conscience  should  not 
also  possess  the  lesser  goods  of  earth,  is  a  question 
with  which  morality  is  in  no  wise  concerned. 

Virtue  can  have  no  recompense,  save  as  it  is 
its  own  recompense,  and  vice  can  receive  no  real 
punishment  save  as  it  is  its  own  avenger.  The 
hope  of  immortality,  in  so  far  as  it  is  based  upon 
the  supposed  necessity  of  righting  in  a  future 
state  what  is  here   wrong,  is  therefore    untenable. 


IMMORTALITY.  I9 

for  It  is  based  upon  the  assumption  of  a  wrong 
which  exists  in  the  imagination  merely.  And  he 
who  claims  a  reward  because  of  his  virtue^  has 
thereby  forfeited  his  right  to  maintain  the  dainty 
since  that  is  not  virtue ^  which  looks  for  reward. 


Having  endeavored  to  show  that  the  joys  of 
earth  cannot  be  claimed  as  the  recompense  of  a 
moral  life,  we  must  yet  admit  that  the  desire  of 
happiness  is  altogether  too  strong  and  deep-seated 
in  human  nature  to  be  thus  summarily  dismissed. 
We  seek  happiness  on  its  own  account  quite  apart 
from  any  title  which  virtue  may  give  us  to  its 
enjoyment.  Were  we  created  for  misery  ?  Does 
not  the  poverty  and  general  unsatisfactoriness  of 
our  present  condition  warrant  us  in  expecting 
ampler  fulfilment,  permanent  bliss  in  an  after  life? 
I  think  we  shall  derive  some  assistance  in  discussing 
this  question,  by  attempting  to  resolve  the  concep- 
tion of  happiness  into  its  constituent  elements. 

Pleasure  has  been  defined  to  consist  in  the  satis- 
faction of  any  of  man's  natural  wants.  The  variety 
of  our  pleasures  corresponds  to  the  diversity  of  our 
wants. 

Food  to  the  hungry,  rest  to  the  weary,  are  sour- 
ces of  pleasure.  To  feel  on  some  cold  wintry  day 
the  genial  warmth  of  thie  hearth  fire  creeping  into 


20  CREED   AND   DEED. 

our  blood,  and  the  frozen  limbs  relaxing  their  stiff- 
ness, is  pleasure.     All  men  admire  the  beautiful  and 
delight  in  adornment.     Even  the  rude  savage  seeks 
to  gratify  his  aesthetic  tastes,  so  far  as  the  means 
which  nature  places  at  his  command  permit.     The 
custom  of    tattooing  the  skin  is  widely    practiced 
among  the  lower  races,  and  stars  and  circles,  trees 
and  plants,  and  other  ingenious  devices  are  impressed 
with  laborious  patience  upon  the  different  members 
of  the  body.     The   chiefs  of  the  Fiji   Islanders,  a 
nude  and  cannibal  race,  are  represented  as  wearing 
an  elaborate  head-dress  of  three  and  even  five  feet 
in  dimensions,   and    were    accustomed    to    spend 
several  hours  each  day,  under  the  care  of  the  royal 
hair-dresser.     Among  civilized  men   the  desire   for 
adornment  finds   vent   chiefly   in  external   objects, 
while  every  coarse  solicitation  of  attention  to  the 
person    is     shunned.      Tastily    decorated    houses, 
flowers,  paintings,  music,  gratify  our  sense  of  sym- 
metry, and   spread   an   atmosphere  of  culture  and 
refinement  in  the  vicinity  of  our  daily  occupations. 
But  there  are  deeper  and  purer  joys  in  reserve. 
Man  is  eminently  a  social  being ;  he  has  the  need 
of  sympathy  and  depends  upon  the  affections  of  his 
fellows.      The   presence   of    cherished   companions 
and  friends  becomes  a  necessity  to  him ;  in  absence 
he  yearns  for   it,  and   the  lack  of  it  is  one  of  the 
most  serious  afflictions  of  human  life.     *'  Woe  unto 


IMMORTALITY.  _  21 

him  who,  far  from  parents  and  loved  kinsmen,  a 
lonely  life  must  lead.  His  present  joys  devouring 
grief  doth  snatch.  His  thoughts  are  ever  straying 
in  the  distance  back  to  his  father's  hall,  where  the 
sun  of  life  first  rose  upon  him,  and  where  children 
of  the  common  home,  playfully,  with  gentle  bonds, 
close  and  closer  drew  their  hearts  together."  *  The 
tranquil  delight  which  we  derive  from  the  enlarge- 
ment of  intellect,  and  the  exquisite  inward  satis- 
faction that  results  from  high  fidelity  to  duty,  may 
be  mentioned  as  the  last  to  crown  the  scale  of 
pleasures. 

Now,  it  is  evident  that  all  these  elements  of 
happiness,  these  diverse  rays  that  nowhere  melt  into 
the  perfect  light,  are  dependent  upon  the  physical 
organization  of  man,  such  as  it  is,  even  for  their 
partial  attainment ;  of  the  lower  pleasures,  this  is 
at  once  evident.  But  a  little  reflection  will  show  the 
same  to  be  the  case  with  the  higher.  If  we  consider 
the  aesthetic  faculty,  we  find  its  gratification  con- 
ditioned by  a  physical  basis.  What  were  music 
without  the  ear ;  what  the  symmetry  of  form,  with- 
out the  eye  and  touch  ?  The  intellect,  in  its  turn, 
fashions  the  rough  timber  of  experience,  which  an 
ever  flowing  stream  of  sensation  carries  into  the 
workshop  of  the  brain.  Can  the  mind  feed  upon 
itself?      Can   the   laws   of    thought   act   otherwise 

*  Goethe,  Iphigenie  auf  Tauris,  Act  I. 


22  CREED   AND   DEED. 

than  upon  the  material  afforded  by  the  senses  ?  The 
same  is  also  true  with  respect  to  our  moral  qualities, 
and  the  exercise  of  the  virtues  is  inconceivable 
beyond  the  pale  of  human  society.  All  virtue  pre- 
supposes a  tendency  to  err  ;  the  failings  and  limita- 
tions of  our  mortal  condition.  Justice  is  the 
adjustment  of  limitations  common  to  all  men  in 
such  manner  that  their  stress  shall  not  bear  more 
heavily  upon  one  than  upon  the  other.  Love  is 
the  expansion  of  one  limited  nature  in  another  and 
their  mutual  enrichment  by  such  union.  Charity, 
fortitude,  continence,  whatever  we  applaud  in 
human  conduct,  is  but  an  indirect  testimony  to  the 
natural  imperfections  inherent  in  the  human  heart, 
and  is  accounted  admirable  only  in  so  far  as  it  tends 
to  ensure  the  best  interests  of  the  race  on  earth. 
When  therefore  this  body  is  corrupted,  when  we 
depart  from  out  the  fellowship  of  men,  the  gratifica- 
tion of  the  appetites,  the  enjoyment  of  beauty,  the 
exercise  of  reason,  and  the  practice  of  virtue 
become  alike  unthinkable. 

We  desire  larger  happiness  than  we  can  here 
achieve ;  but  because  we  desire  a  thing,  are  we 
therefore  at  all  warranted  in  believing  that  we  shall 
obtain  it  ?  Is  the  course  of  the  world's  affairs  such 
as  to  encourage  so  flattering  an  hypothesis  ?  Is 
not  the  fatality  that  so  often  attends  our  best 
efforts  in  this  life,  an  argument  against,  rather  than 


IMMORTALITY.  23 

in  favor  of  increasing  felicity  in  another?  We 
should  assume  a  wiser  attitude  as  against  fate. 
There  are  those  who  fret  under  disappointment, 
and  murmur  and  rebel  as  if  they  had  been  defrauded 
of  a  right ;  as  if  they  had  entered  into  a  compact 
with  destiny  to  their  advantage,  as  if  the  myriad 
worlds  moved  through  space  for  their  especial  good. 
This  is  an  insane  spirit.  We  need  something  of 
the  vim  of  stoicism  to  grapple  with  the  difficulties 
of  life  ;  we  need  to  cultivate  a  larger  patience ;  an 
humble  spirit  prepared  for  every  loss,  and  welcom- 
ing every  hour  of  joy  as  an  unlooked  for  gain. 
There  are  a  thousand  pleasures  too  in  little  things 
which  we,  with  the  petulance  of  children,  daily 
spurn,  because  we  cannot  have  all  we  ask  for.  In 
every  stone  there  is  instruction,  in  every  varying 
aspect  of  the  sky  there  is  beauty,  wherever  men 
congregate  and  commune,  lessons  of  wisdom  are 
revealed  to  the  observer.  The  movement  of 
everlasting  laws  quivers  in  the  meanest  trifles,  and 
the  eternities,  thinly  veiled,  look  out  upon  us  with 
their  solemn  gaze  from  every  passing  mask  of  time. 
These  let  us  study ;  art  will  help  us ;  science  will 
open  to  us  a  wondrous  chain  of  workings  which  the 
mind  cannot  exhaust,  and  active  exertions  for  the 
common  weal  will  give  a  generous  glow  to  our  lives, 
and  still  the  unquiet  yearnings  which  we  may  never 
entirely  set  at  rest.     You  have  seen  how  the  flowers 


24  CREED  AND   DEED. 

grow,  how  that  many  seeds  are  scattered  and  but 
few  take  root ;  how  the  germ  slowly  and  with  diffi- 
culty develops.  The  rain  waters  it.  the  warm  sun- 
beam fosters  it ;  storms  sweeping  over  the  earth, 
may  crush  it  while  it  is  still  a  young  and  tender 
shoot.  At  last,  sometimes  after  years  of  prepara- 
tion, it  buds  and  opens  and  blooms  and  becomes  a 
delight  and  a  glory,  a  fount  of  fragrance,  a  crown  of 
beauty.  A  few  days  pass  and  it  droops ;  what  the 
long  process  of  time  has  slowly  cr-eated,  a  single 
moment  may  suffice  to  destroy  ;  and  yet  though  its 
time  was  brief,  the  flower  fulfilled  its  nature  only  in 
that  passing  bloom  ;  all  the  previous  stages  of  its 
existence  had  a  meaning  only  as  they  led  up  to  this, 
the  final  revelation  of  its  purpose. 

The  bloom  of  human  life  is  morality ;  whatever 
else  we  may  possess,  health,  and  wealth,  power, 
grace,  knowledge,  have  a  value  only  as  they  lead  up 
to  this ;  have  a  meaning  only  as  they  make  this 
possible.  Nor  should  we  complain  that  the  blight 
of  death  so  quickly  withers  what  the  course  of  three- 
score years  has  scarce  sufficed  to  produce.  In  the 
hour  of  our  destruction,  we  will  lift  up  our  hearts  in 
triumph — we  have  blossomed  !    We  have  blossomed  ! 

But  it  will  be  said,  that  the  flower  when  it  is 
wilted  and  withered  here,  may  be  transplanted  to 
fairer  regions ;  that  the  soul  may  take  on  new 
organs,  when  it  has  abandoned  its  earthly  habitation, 


IMMORTALITY.  2$ 

and  in  a  series  of  transformations  of  which,  it  is  true, 
we  can  form  no  definite  conception,  may  enter 
afresh  upon  its  struggles  for  worthiness  in  other 
spheres.  This  is,  indeed,  the  loftiest  expression 
which  the  hope  of  immortality  has  found.  Unlike 
the  arguments  previously  considered,  it  is  unalloyed 
by  any  selfish  motive,  is  founded  upon  a  really 
exalted  sentiment,  and  it  is  Love  and  Virtue  them- 
selves that  here  take  up  the  strain,  and  sing  us  their 
animating  song  of  ceaseless  progress  toward  the 
good.  The  argument  in  this  shape,  involves  the 
further  question  whether  the  existence  of  an  inde- 
pendent and  indestructible  soul  is  assured,  and  upon 
this  point  the  whole  problem  of  immortality  finally 
hinges. 


The  question  whether  what  we  are  accustomed 
to  call  the  soul  is  a  distinct  and  indivisible  entity,  or 
merely  the  result  of  material  processes,  has  divided 
mankind  for  more  than  two  thousand  years,  and 
some  of  the  ablest  thinkers  have  ranged  themselves 
on  either  side.  As  early  as  the  fifth  century  B.  C. 
the  philosopher  Democritus  propounded  material- 
istic doctrines  among  the  Greeks.  According  to 
him,  the  soul  is  a  combination  of  smooth,  round, 
polished  and  moving  atoms,  and  to  the  motions  of 
these  atoms  the  phenomena  of  life  are  to  be  ascribed. 

2 


26  CREED   AND   DEED. 

Among  the  Romans,  Lucretius  advanced  similar 
views.  He  took  particular  pains  to  combat  the 
"vulgar  fear  of  death/'  protesting  that  the  prospect 
of  dissolution  would  lose  its  terrors,  did  we  not 
foolishly  imagine  ourselves  conscious  of  being  dead, 
forgetting  that  death  implies  the  entire  cessation  of 
consciousness.  The  followers  of  materialistic  opin- 
ions among  the  ancients,  were  not  a  few.  But  during 
the  ascendancy  of  the  Christian  Church,  these  opin- 
ions retired  into  the  background,  until  in  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries,  they  were  revived  by 
such  men  as  Gassendi  and  La  Mettrie,  and  others. 
In  modern  times  they  have  been  widely  spread. 

The  list  of  names  on  the  opposite  side  is  headed 
by  Socrates,  Plato,  Aristotle,  and  embraces  the 
great  majority  of  writers  and  public  teachers,  down 
to  the  present  day. 

It  may  appear  strange  that  when  the  belief  in 
immortality  had  once  become  current,  men  should 
have  been  tempted  to  forego  its  pleasing  prospects, 
and  even,  with  a  certain  vehemence,  to  urge  their 
sceptical  views  upon  others.  Let  us  consider  for 
a  moment,  what  it  was  that  induced  the  materialists 
to  assume  their  position.  The  observed  corre- 
spondence between  mental  and  physical  phenomena 
doubtless  led  them  in  the  first  instance  to  adopt 
their  peculiar  views. 

We  see  in  the  tiny  body  of  the  new  born  babe, 


IMMORTALITY.  2^ 

barely  more  than  the  faint  stirrings  of  animal  life ; 
months  pass  by  before  it  is  able  to  form  any  clear 
conception  of  the  persons  and  things  in  its  vicinity, 
the  simpler  mental  processes  appearing  simultane- 
ously with  the  growth  of  the  bodily  organs.  The 
intellect  reaches  its  highest  development  in  the 
age  of  manhood  and  womanhood,  when  we  stand 
in  the  maturity  of  our  physical  powers.  In  that 
middle  age  of  life  lies,  with  rare  exceptions,  the 
best  work  we  are  destined  to  accomplish.  Having 
entered  upon  the  downward  slope,  our  faculties 
gradually  lose  their  vigor,  until  we  sink  into  the 
final  stage  of  drivelling  old  age,  and  become  feeble 
in  mind,  as  we  are  helpless  in  body.  In  this 
manner  the  close  connection  between  our  spiritual 
and  material  parts,  is  brought  home  forcibly,  even 
to  the  unreflecting  ;  as  the  one  enlarges  so  does  the 
other:  as  the  one  diminishes  so  does  the  other: 
together  they  increase,  together  they  are  weakened  ; 
the  inference  is  drawn,  shall  it  not  be,  that  together 
they  will  perish  ? 

The  phenomena  of  sleep  and  of  coma  seem  to 
convey  the  same  lesson.  A  haze  steals  over  our 
consciousness ;  sometimes  settling  into  impenetra- 
ble night ;  as  the  body  for  a  time  wears  the  sem- 
blance of  death,  so  also  is  the  mind  stupefied  or 
completely  paralyzed.  Hours  pass  by ;  in  the  inter- 
val, the  business  of  the  world  has  gone  on  as  before. 


28  CREED  AND   DEED. 

but  to  US  there  has  been  only  a  void  and  utter 
blank.  And  thus  it  is  said  shall  there  be  a  void  and 
a  blank  in  the  tomb  ;  time  will  pass  by,  and  we  shall 
not  know  it ;  men  will  move  and  act  and  we  shall 
be  none  the  wiser  for  it ;  it  will  be  all  like  sleep, 
only  that  there  will  be  no  dreams. 

And  again  when  some  malignant  fever  seizes 
upon  the  body  and  corrupts  the  currents  of  the 
blood,  how  do  the  poor  disordered  thoughts  dance 
about  wildly,  driven  by  the  lash  of  the  distemper ; 
how  does  the  use  of  stimulants  besot  the  intellect, 
so  that  every  higher  power  is  deadened ;  how  in  the 
wild  ravings  of  the  diseased  brain,  do  we  behold  the 
hideous  mockery  of  mind. 

And  does  not  the  grave  itself  testify  loudly  that 
the  end  is  an  end  indeed  ;  the  body  falls  to  pieces, 
the  dust  commingles  with  the  dust,  and  nothing 
remains,  nothing  at  least  of  which  we  can  ever 
have  experience.  Right  or  wrong,  these  facts  im- 
press the  mind,  and  their  leaden  weight  serves  to 
drag  down  our  aspirations. 

It  is  true,  the  considerations  I  have  enumerated 
are  based  upon  a  mere  surface  view  of  things,  but 
the  more  accurate  methods  of  science  seem,  at  first 
sight,  to  confirm  the  general  conclusions  to  which 
they  lead.  On  this  point,  it  would  be  well  to  dwell 
for  a  moment.  John  Stuart  Mill  acknowledges 
that  **the  evidence  is  well-nigh  complete  that  all 


IMMORTALITY.  29 

thought  and  feeling  has  some  action  of  the  bodily 
organism  for  its  immediate  coincident  and  accom- 
paniment, and  that  the  specific  variations,  and  es- 
pecially the  different  degrees  of  complication  of  the 
nervous  and  cerebral  organism,  correspond  to  differ- 
ences in  the  development  of  our  mental  faculties." 

The  prodigious  difficulties  in  the  way  of  the 
study  of  the  brain  may  long  retard  the  progress  of 
the  investigator,  but  for  the  purposes  of  our  argu- 
ment we  are  at  liberty  to  assume  whatever  is  within 
the  limits  of  possible  achievement.  We  may  sup- 
pose that  physiology  will  succeed  so  far  that  the 
brain  will  be  accurately  and  completely  mapped 
out,  and  that  the  motions  of  the  atoms  upon  which 
the  thousand  varying  modes  of  thought  and  feeling 
depend,  will  be  known  and  measured.  In  antici- 
pating such  results,  we  have  reached  the  utmost 
tenable  position  of  materialism. 

But  now  to  our  surprise  we  discover  that  all  this 
being  allowed,  the  ultimate  question,  what  is  soul, 
remains  still  unsolved  and  as  insoluble  as  ever. 
The  unvarying  coincidence  of  certain  modes  of  soul 
with  certain  material  processes  may  be  within  the 
range  of  proof,  but  what  cannot  be  proven  is,  that 
these  material  processes  explain  the  psychic  phe- 
nomena. 

If  it  is  urged  that  the  same  difficulty  presents 
itself  in  the  explanation  of  the  most  ordinary  occur- 


30  CREED  AND   DEED. 

rences,  this  objection  is  based  upon  a  misapprehen-i 
sion  of  the  point  at  issue. 

The  scientist  cannot  show  why  heat  should  be 
convertible  into  motion,  but  how  it  is  thus  trans- 
formed is  easy  to  demonstrate,  and  the  exact  me- 
chanical equivalent  ofheat  has  been  calculated.  But 
how  certain  motions  of  atoms  in  the  brain  should 
generate,  not  heat,  but  consciousness,  but  thought 
and  love,  is  past  all  conception.  There  are  here  two 
different  orders  of  facts,  having  no  common  princi- 
ple to  which  they  could  both  be  reduced.  There  is 
an  impassable  gulf  between  them  which  can  in  no- 
wise be  bridged  over. 

Nor  would  it  avail  us  to  endow  the  atom  itself 
with  the  promise  and  potency  of  intellect ;  we  should 
thereby  throw  back  the  issue  a  step  further,  and  dis- 
guise the  problem  whose  existence  it  were  better  to 
plainly  acknowledge.  The  broad  fact  of  conscious- 
ness therefore  remains  unexplained  and  inexplicable 
as  before.  Arrived  at  this  limit,  science  itself  pauses 
and  refuses  to  pass  further. 

Some  of  the  leading  naturalists  of  our  day  have 
lately  expressed  themselves  clearly  and  tersely  in 
this  sense.  The  eminent  physiologist  Dubois  Rey- 
mond  denies  that  the  connection  between  certain  mo- 
'tions  of  certain  atoms  in  the  brain,  and  what  he  calls, 
the  primal,  undefinable  and  undeniable  facts  of  con- 
sciousness, is  at  all  conceivable.     Professor  Tyndall 


IMMORTALITY.  3I 

in  his  address  on  **The  scope  and  limits  of  Scientific 
Materialism,"  explains  his  views  with  similar  precis- 
ibn.  Were  our  minds  so  expanded,  strengthened 
and  illuminated  as  to  enable  us  to  see  and  feel  the 
very  molecules  of  the  brain  ;  were  we  capable  of  fol- 
lowing all  their  motions,  all  their  groupings,  all  their 
electric  discharges,  if  such  there  be ;  and  were  we 
intimately  acquainted  with  the  corresponding  states 
of  thought  and  feeling,  we  should  be  as  far  as  ever 
from  the  solution  of  the  problem.  How  are  these 
physical  processes  connected  by  and  with  the  facts 
of  consciousness  ?  I  do  not  think  the  materialist 
is  entitled  to  say  that  his  molecular  groupings  and 
his  molecular  motions  explain  everything,  in  real- 
ity they  explain  nothing.  .  .  The  problem  of 
body  and  soul  is  as  insoluble  in  its  modern  form  as 
it  was  in  the  pre-scientific  ages." 

Now  since  it  is  impossible  to  demonstrate  that 
the  powers  of  mind  are  a  product  of  matter,  the  pos- 
sibility undoubtedly  remains  that  these  powers  may 
continue  to  exist  even  after  their  connection  with 
the  physical  organism  has  been  dissolved.  If  all  the 
arguments  that  are  commonly  adduced  in  support 
of  the  doctrine  of  a  future  life  fall  short  of  their  ob- 
ject, it  is  but  just  to  add  that  every  argument  to  the 
contrary  is  equally  devoid  of  foundation.  The  doc- 
trine of  immortality  cannot  be  disproved.  Of  the 
nature   of  soul    we  are  in  absolute  ignorance ;  we 


32  CREED  AND   DEED. 

know  nothing ;  what  is  more,  we  can  know  nothing 
At  this  point  we  touch  the  utmost  boundary  of  hu- 
man reason,  and  must  be  content  to  write  mystery 
of  mysteries. 

In  the  state  of  settled  uncertainty  to  which  we 
are  thus  reduced,  the  shape  of  our  opinions  will  be 
determined  by  the  bias  of  our  natures  or  the  influ- 
ence of  education.  The  sceptic  will  remind  us  of  the 
points  in  which  we  resemble  all  the  perishable  forms 
of  nature  and  hold  it  improbable  that  we  alone  should 
escape  the  universal  law  of  dissolution.  Others  will 
cling  to  the  hope  of  continued  life,  even  on  the  brink 
of  the  grave,  and  the  strong  instinct  of  self  preserva- 
tion will  give  tone  and  color  to  their  religious  beliefs. 
Deep  philosophical  speculations  are  possible  as  to  that 
ultimate  source  of  being,  that  hidden  light  of  which 
both  matter  and  mind  are  diverse  reflections.  And 
here  too  poetry  assumes  its  legitimate  office.  On  the 
mists  that  cover  the  infinite  abyss,  we  may  project 
whatever  images,  foul  or  fair,  we  list.  Science  you 
may  be  sure  will  never  disturb  us.  Dogmatic  asser- 
tion however,  on  either  side  is  totally  unwarranted : 
and  the  question  of  immortality  (I  think  we  must 
sooner  or  later  make  up  our  minds  to  that)  will 
remain  an  open  one.  Certain,  only,  is  the  fact  of  our 
uncertainty. 

If  the  conclusions  to  which  we  have  thus  been 
led,  seem  purely  negative  in  their  bearings,  they  are 


IMMORTALITY.  .     33 

none  the  less  capable  of  certain  positive  applications, 
which  deserve  our  serious  attention.  The  longing 
for  immortality  has  been  developed  into  a  morbid 
craving  under  the  influence  of  the  current  religious 
teachings,  and  has  become  a  disturbing  element  in 
human  society.  On  more  than  one  occasion  it  has 
imperilled  the  peace  of  nations,  and  the  doctrines  of 
salvation  became  the  watchwords  of  contending  ar- 
mies. The  doubtful  chances  of  eternal  felicity  or 
damnation  became  the  one  absorbing  topic  on 
which  men's  minds  dwelt,  and  the  wild  horrors  of  the 
Christian  Hell  have  cast  a  gloom  over  many  an  in- 
nocent life,  and  curtailed  the  scant  measure  of  its 
earthly  happiness.  It  were  something  gained,  if  by 
a  cool  and  dispassionate  judgment  the  influence  of 
these  dismal  fantasies  could  be  lessened,  and  men 
be  freed  from  their  slavish  subjection  to  phantoms 
born  of  their  own  distempered  imaginations. 

Furthermore,  it  follows  from  what  we  have  said 
that  the  belief  in  immortality  should  not  be  incul- 
cated as  a  dogma  in  our  schools  of  religion,  and 
above  all  that  the  dictates  of  the  moral  law  should 
in  no  wise  be  made  to  depend  upon  it  for  their  sanc- 
tion. The  moral  law  is  the  common  ground  upon 
which  all  religious  and  in  fact  all  true  men  may  meet. 
It  is  the  one  basis  of  union  that  remains  to  us  amid 
the  clashing  antagonisms  of  the  sects.  While  dog- 
ma is  by  its  nature,  open  to  attack,  and  its  accep- 


34  CREED  AND   DEED. 

tance  at  all  times  a  matter  of  choice,  the  principles  of 
morality  have  a  right  to  demand  implicit  obedience, 
and  should  rest  as  everlasting  verities  in  the  human 
heart.  Let  us  reflect  well  before  we  imperil  the  lat- 
ter by  the  undue  prominence  which  we  give  the 
former.  It  is  not  needful  to  impart  to  a  child  the 
whole  truth,  but  what  it  learns  should  be  wholly 
true,  and  nothing  should  be  taught  it  as  a  funda- 
mental fact  which  it  can  ever  in  after  years  be  led  to 
call  in  question.  How  often  has  it  occurred  that 
when  the  riper  reason  of  the  man  has  rejected  the 
tenets  of  the  church  in  which  he  was  educated,  he 
has  been  tempted  to  cast  aside  all  the  religious 
teachings  of  his  youth,  the  moral  with  the  rest,  as 
idle  fable  and  deceit. 

And  lastly,  friends,  as  we  do  not,  cannot  know, 
it  is  presumably  wise  that  we  should  not  know. 
The  vanity  of  all  our  efforts  to  grasp  the  infinite, 
should  teach  us  that  on  this  island  of  time  whereon 
we  live,  lies  our  work.  In  its  joys  we  may  freely 
take  delight ;  for  its  woes  we  should  reserve  our 
sympathies,  and  in  laboring  to  advance  the  progress 
of  the  good  we  must  find  our  satisfaction. 

Before  closing  this  subject  however  let  us  recall 
vividly  to  our  minds  that  the  desire  for  continuance 
after  death  is  capable  of  the  most  noble  expression, 
and  of  supplying  us  with  wholesome  consolation  and 
inspiriting  motives  to  action.     The  individual  passes. 


IMMORTALITY.  35 

but  the  race  lives !  There  is  a  law  in  nature  that  no 
force  is  ever  lost.  The  thousand  varying  forms  that 
ebb  and  flow  around  us  are  various  only  to  our  feeble 
vision.  At  the  core  they  are  one,  transmuted,  yet 
the  same,  changing  yet  changeless,  perishing  to  rise 
anew.  The  law  of  the  conservation  of  energy  holds 
good  throughout  the  entire  domain  of  matter.  And 
such  a  law  too  obtains  in  our  spiritual  life.  The 
law  of  the  conservation  of  moral  energy  is  no  less  an 
abiding  truth ;  we  are  not  dust  merely,  that  returns 
to  dust ;  we  are  not  summer  flies  that  bask  in  the 
sunshine  of  the  passing  day  ;  we  are  not  bounded  in 
our  influence  by  the  narrow  tenure  of  our  years.  Say 
not  when  the  sod  has  closed  above  those  who  have 
been  dear  to  you  that  all  is  gone.  Say  not  that  the 
grace  and  loveliness,  and  wisdom  that  once  dwelt 
within  the  pallid  form  is  breathed  away  like  a  hollow 
wind.  Nor  yet  stand  idly  gazing  upon  the  cloud- 
land  of  the  future,  watching  if  you  can  trace  per- 
chance their  shadowy  lineaments  fading  into  the 
dimness  of  untried  worlds.  The  dead  are  not  dead  if 
we  have  loved  them  truly.  In  our  own  lives  we  give 
them  immortality.  Let  us  arise  and  take  up  the 
work  they  have  left  unfinished,  and  preserve  the 
treasures  they  have  won,  and  round  out  the  circuit 
of  their  being  to  the  fullness  of  an  ampler  orbit  in 
our  own. 

All  the  good  that  was  in  them  lives  in  you,  the 


36  CREED  AND  DEED. 

germ  and  nucleus  of  the  better  that  shall  be.  All  the 
evil  that  inhered  in  them  shall  be  cleansed  away  in 
you  and  your  virtues  shall  be  the  atonement  for  their 
sins.  Thus  shall  the  fathers  live  in  the  children,  and 
from  generation  to  generation  the  bond  that  con- 
nects the  past  with  the  future  remains  unbroken. 
They  that  have  left  you  are  not  afar ;  their  presence 
is  near  and  real,  a  silent  and  august  companionship. 
In  the  still  hours  of  meditation  ;  under  the  starlit 
night,  in  the  stress  of  action,  in  trials  and  tempta- 
tions, you  will  hear  their  voices  whispering  words 
of  cheer  or  warning,  and  your  deeds  are  their  deeds 
and  your  lives  are  their  lives. 

So  does  the  light  of  other  days  still  shine  in  the 
bright  hued  flowers  that  clothe  our  fields ;  so  do  they 
who  are  long  since  gathered  into  the  silent  city  of 
the  dead  still  move  about  our  houses,  distributing 
kindness  and  nobleness  among  our  lives.  So  does 
the  toll  of  the  funeral  bell  become  an  alarum  to  rouse 
us  to  more  active  effort  and  to  the  nobler  service  of 
mankind. 


IL 

RELIGION. 

The  question,  Have  we  still  a  religion,  pro- 
pounded by  David  Friedrich  Strauss  some  few  years 
ago,  will  long  engage  the  attention  of  radical 
thinkers.  It  is  clear  that  to  answer  it  satisfactorily 
we  must  determine,  in  the  first  instance,  what 
meaning  ought  rightly  to  be  attached  to  the  term 
religion.  In  common  parlance,  it  is  often  used 
with  reference  to  mere  externals,  a  religious  person 
being  one  who  conforms  to  the  rites  and  usages  of 
some  particular  church.  On  the  other  hand,  every 
innovation  in  the  sphere  of  doctrine  is  branded  as 
irreligious.  Thus  Luther  was  deemed  irreligious 
by  the  Catholics;  St.  Boniface  by  the  heathen 
Germans,  Jesus  by  the  Jews,  Elijah  by  the  servants 
of  Baal.  There  is  not  any  single  form,  nor  even  a 
single  fundamental  principle  common  to  all  reli- 
gions. Religion  is  not  identical  with  theology.  It 
is  indeed  often  maintained  that  the  belief  in  a  per- 
sonal God  should  be  regarded  as  the  foundation  and 
criterion  of  religion  ;  but  upon  this  assumption,  two 
facts  remain  inexplicable,  the  existence  of  religion 


38  CREED  AND   DEED. 

before  ever  the  idea  of  a  deity  had  arisen  among 
men,  and  the  existence  of  what  may  be  termed  an 
atheistical  religion,  in  conscious  antagonism  to  the 
doctrine  of  a  personal  God.  Among  the  lower  races 
we  find  men  worshipping,  sacrificing  and  uttering 
their  invocations  to  mountains,  fountains,  rivers, 
rocks  and  stones :  they  know  not  a  deity — some- 
times they  have  not  even  idols,  and  yet  they  cer- 
tainly have,  after  a  fashion  of  their  own,  a  religion. 
Again,  Buddhism,  while  possessing  a  subtle  system 
of  philosophy  and  an  admirable  code  of  ethics,  starts 
with  the  proposition  that  there  never  was  a  creation, 
and  in  consequence,  never  a  creator,  and  yet  more 
than  four  hundred  millions  of  the  earth's  inhabitants 
call  it  theii^  religion ! 

The  question  returns  to  us.  What  is  religion  ? 
It  is  not  creed ;  it  is  not  sacrifice ;  it  is  not  prayer ; 
it  is  not  covered  by  the  dogmas  of  any  special  form 
of  belief;  it  has  acted  as  a  controlling  force  in  all 
ages,  in  every  zone,  among  all  manner  of  men. 
Are  we  devoid  of  it  ?     Of  it  ?     Of  what  ? 

The  feeling  which  the  presence  of  the  Infinite 
in  the  thoughts  of  man  awakens  within  him,  is 
called,  the  feeling  of  the  sublime.  The  feeling  of 
the  sublime  is  the  root  of  the  religious  sentiment. 
It  assumes  various  phases,  and  to  these  correspond 
the  various  religions.  Let  us  endeavor  to  enumer- 
ate some  of  the  most  prominent. 


RELIGION.  39 

The  feeling  of  the  sublime  is  awakened  by  the 
mysterious.  The  indefinite  gives  us  our  earliest 
presentiment  of  the  infinite ;  the  religion  of  mys- 
tery is  fetishism.  The  feeling  of  the  sublime  is 
awakened  by  exhibitions  of  superhuman  power. 
The  religion  of  power  is  paganism.  The  feeling  of 
the  sublime  is  evoked  by  vastness  ;  the  religions 
of  vastness  are  Brahminism  and  Buddhism.  The 
loftiest  type  of  sublimity  is  to  be  found  in  the 
morally  infinite.  Judaism,  Christianity  and  Islam 
have  sought  to  give  it  expression."^ 

Let  us  discuss  in  the  first  place  the  origin  of 
Fetishism.  There  are  *  certain  natural  phenomena 
that  fill  us  with  alarm,  without  our  being  able  to 
attribute  the  effect  to  any  definite  cause.  The 
darkness  of  night,  the  rustling  of  leaves,  the  moan- 
ing of  the  wind  through  the  forest,  the  wailing  cry 
of  certain  birds,  and  the  peculiar  effects  of  a  gather- 
ing fog,  are  of  this  kind.  I  have  had  occasion  to 
observe  a  little  child  suddenly  starting  from  its  play 
with  every  sign  of  fear  depicted  upon  its  counte- 
nance ;  the  spasm  passed  away  as  quickly  as  it  had 
come,  but  was  repeated  at  various  intervals,  until  at 
last  the  child  ran  up  to  me  in  uncontrollable  alarm, 

*  We  do  not  pretend  that  the  above  schedule  is  at  all  exhaustive. 
Various  elements  of  the  sublime,  not  mentioned  in  the  text,  have 
entered  into  the  composition  of  each  of  the  great  religions.  We 
have  merely  attempted  to  seize  the  more  salient  feature  of  a  few 
leading  types. 


L 


40  CREED  AND   DEED. 

and  threw  up  its  arms  for  protection  :  it  was  a  raw 
wintry  day,  a  gusty  wind  blew  fitfully  against  the 
windows;  and  the  dreary  sound  of  the  rattling 
panes  could  be  distinctly  heard  in  the  stillness  of 
the  room  ;  on  closer  observation  I  noticed  that  the 
signs  of  alarm  in  the  child  recurred  with  great 
regularity,  as  often  as  this  sound  was  repeated. 
In  a  similar  way  we  may  imagine  our  earliest  ances- 
tors to  have  been  affected  by  whatever  was  vague 
and  mysterious  in  nature.  The  sense  of  uncertainty 
occasioned  in  this  manner,  gave  rise  in  the  primitive 
man  to  the  first  conceptions  of  mysterious  powers 
beyond  him. 

The  invention,  or  rather  the  discovery,  of  fire 
tended  still  further  in  the  same  direction.  To  us  it 
is  barely  possible  to  imagine  life  without  this  most 
useful  of  the  elements.  The  wild  beast  flees  fire  and 
fears  it,  man  uses  it,  and  it  becomes  the  chief  instru- 
ment of  civilization.  But  if  we  strive  to  picture  to 
ourselves  the  state  of  the  savage's  mind  on  his  first 
acquaintance  with  fire  and  its  properties  we  shall 
find  him  utterly  at  a  loss  to  account  for.  How  will 
he  regard  this  nimble,  playful  being,  so  bright  and 
yet  so  fearful  in  its  ravages.  Of  the  laws  of  chemical 
action  he  has  of  course  no  conception,  but  he  has 
sometimes  seen  the  lightning  strike  into  the  wood 
of  the  tree,  and  now  from  the  same  wood  he  evokes 
the   semblance   of    the    lightning.      He  is  twirling 


RELIGION.  41 

two  dry  sticks  between  his  hands ;  of  a  sudden,  a 
lambent  flame  shoots  forth,  seizes  the  wood,  makes 
away  with  it,  and  leaves  nothing  but  blackened 
cinders  behind.  Whence  did  it  come,  whither  has 
it  vanished?  Here  was  a  new  mystery;  a  spiritual 
presence,  latent  in  trees  and  stones  ;  kindly  and 
beneficent  at  times,  then  again  hostile  and  fiercely 
destructive. 

The  mystery  of  the  preparation  of  fire  is  cele- 
brated in  the  ancient  hymns  of  the  Vedah.  We 
there  find  its  birth  from  the  friction  of  the  double 
sticks  described,  and  its  properties  rehearsed  in  rev- 
erent language.  It  is  invoked  like  any  superior 
spirit  to  bless  its  votaries,  and  to  protect  them  from 
harm.  The  important  role  ascribed  to  fire  in  the 
sacred  usages  of  the  ancients,  is  well-known,  and 
the  origin  of  fire  worship  apparent. 

The  theory  of  dreams,  to  which  we  have  referred 
on  a  previous  occasion,  contributed  in  like  manner, 
to  extend  the  boundaries  of  the  world  of  mystery. 
Convinced  that  he  bore  within  himself  an  airy  coun- 
terfeit of  self,  the  savage  attributed  the  same  species 
of  possession  to  things  animate  and  inanimate  alike. 
Why  should  not  beasts  and  rivers  and  stones  have 
their  ghosts  like  man?  Moreover,  as  to  the  ghosts 
of  the  human  dead,  no  one  could  tell  where  they 
might  take  up  their  abode.  They  might  be  any- 
where and  everywhere.     Their  countless  legions  sur- 


42  CREED  AND   DEED. 

rounded  the  living  in  all  places.  They  were  heard 
shouting  in  the  echo  among  the  hills ;  they  were 
seen  to  ride  past  on  the  midnight  gale.  Often  they 
assumed  the  shape  of  birds  and  reptiles  and  beasts 
of  prey.  Those,  creatures  were  singled  out  with  a 
preference,  whose  movements  and  habits  suggested 
the  idea  of  mystery.  Thus  the  owl  was  supposed  to 
harbor  an  evil  spirit,  and  the  serpent  was  worshipped 
because  of  its  stealthy,  gliding  motion,  its  venomous 
bite,  and  the  fascination  in  its  eye.  Serpent  wor- 
ship existed  the  world  over.  Traces  of  it  are  pre- 
served in  the  literature  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans, 
and  it  was  practised  even  among  the  Hebrews,  as 
the  Books  of  Kings  attest.  Among  certain  African 
tribes  it  is  still  customary  to  keep  huge  serpents  in 
temples,  and  priests  are  dedicated  to  their  service. 
Powerful  animals  also,  such  as  the  bear,  the  lion  and 
the  tiger,  were  sometimes  supposed  to  contain  the 
ghosts  of  departed  chieftains,  and  were  revered  ac- 
cordingly. 

If  we  remember  the  unfriendly  relations  sup- 
posed to  subsist  between  the  living  and  the  dead, 
we  may  conceive  the  state  of  alarm  in  which  our 
primitive  ancestors  must  have  passed  their  lives 
on  beholding  themselves  thus  beset  on  every  side, 
with  ghosts  or  demons  in  disguise.  A  thousand 
fabulous  terrors  haunted  their  imagination.  Wher- 
ever  they    turned    they    suspected    lurking    foes ; 


RELIGION.  43 

spirits  were  in  the  earth,  in  the  air,  in  birds,  in  ani- 
mals, in  reptiles,  in  trees.  They  could  not  move  a 
step  without  infringing  on  the  boundaries  of  the 
spirit  realm.  Every  object  the  least  extraordinary  in 
size,  or  shape,  or  color,  appeared  to  them  the  token 
of  some  demon's  presence,  and  was  worshipped  in 
consequence,  not  on  its  own  account,  but  because  of 
the  mystery  which  it  suggested. 

In  this  manner  Retishism  arose.  The  fetish 
worshipper  leaves  his  hut  in  the  morning,  sees  some 
bright  pebble  glistening  on  his  path,  lifts  it  from 
the  ground  and  says,  this  shall  be  my  fetish.  If  he 
succeeds  in  the  business  of  the  day,  he  places  the 
little  object  in  a  shrine,  gilds  it,  brings  it  food,  ad- 
dresses his  prayers  to  it ;  if  it  fails,  it  is  cast  aside. 
Again,  if  after  a  little  time  the  fetish  ceases  to  ful- 
fil his  wishes,  he  breaks  it  and  drags  it  in  the  mire 
by  way  of  punishment. 

Such  are  a  few  of  the  gross  and  grotesque  con- 
ceptions to  which  the  religion  of  mystery  has  given 
birth.  It  is  true,  to  the  educated  mind  of  the  pres- 
ent day  they  will  appear  the  very  reverse  of  sub- 
lime. But  greatness  is  relative,  and  our  own  loftier 
conceptions  of  the  sublime  are  but  the  slow  result 
of  a  long  process  of  growth  and  development. 

The  Religion  of  Power. — It  has  often  been 
said  that  fear  is  the  beginning  of  religion  ;  a  state- 


44  CREED    A.ND   DEED. 

ment  of  this  kind  however,  cannot  be  accepted, 
without  serious  qualification.  There  is  a  sense  of 
kinship  with  the  great,  in  whatever  form  it  may  ap- 
pear, of  which  even  the  meanest  are  susceptible.  A 
nation  worships  the  hero  who  ruins  it ;  and  slaves 
will  take  a  certain  pride  in  the  superiority  of  their 
masters.  It  is  not  fear  so  much  as  admiration  of 
might  which  makes  men  servants  of  the  mighty. 
The  first  tyrants  on  earth  were,  in  all  likelihood, 
strong,  agile,  and  brave  men,  possessing  in  an  extra- 
ordinary degree,  the  qualities  which  all  others  cov- 
eted. They  won  applause,  they  were  looked  up  to 
as  natural  leaders,  and  the  arm  of  force  maintained 
what  the  esteem  of  their  fellows  had  accorded  in 
the  first  instance.  There  is  a  touch  of  the  sublime 
even  in  the  rudest  adoration  of  force. 

In  the  second  stage  of  religious  development, 
which  we  are  now  approaching,  the  theory  of  pos- 
session discussed  in  the  above,  was  extended  to  the 
heavenly  bodies,  and  the  sun,  moon  and  stars  were 
endowed  with  the  attributes  of  personal  beings. 
Hence  the  origin  of  the  great  gods.  As  the  sun  is 
the  most  conspicuous  body  in  the  heavens,  the  sun 
god  figures  as  the  central  deity  in  every  pantheon. 
The  various  phases  through  which  the  luminary 
passes  are  represented  in  distinct  personalities. 
We  find  gods  of  the  rising  sun  and  of  the  setting 
sun ;  gods  of  the  sun  of  spring,  summer  and  winter, 


RELIGION.  45 

gods  also  of  the  cloud-enshrouded  sun,  that  battles 
with  the  storm  giants. 

Since  the  hosts  of  heaven  were  supposed  to  be 
beings  allied  in  nature  to  ourselves,  the  action  and 
interaction  of  the  meteoric  phenomena  was  ascribed 
to  personal  motives,  and  the  ingenuity  "of  the 
primitive  philosophers  was  exhausted  in  finding 
plausible  pretexts  to  explain  their  attractions  and 
repulsions,  their  seeming  friendships  and  hostilities. 
Thus  arose  the  quaint  and  fanciful  myths  with 
which  the  traditions  of  antiquity  abound.  Those 
problems  which  the  modern  mind  seeks  to  settle 
with  the  help  of  scientific  investigation,  the  limited 
experience  of  an  earlier  age  was'  barely  competent  to 
attack,  and  it  covered  with  some  pretty  fiction,  the 
difficulties  which  it  could  not  solve.  The  gene- 
alogy and  biography  of  the  sun-god  formed  the 
main  theme  of  all  mythologies. 

The  daily  progress  of  the  sun  through  the 
heavens,  is  described  as  follows  :  Each  morning  the 
golden  crowned  god  leaves  his  golden  palace  in  the 
East,  deep  down  below  the  ocean's  waves;  he 
mounts  his  golden  chariot,  drawn  by  fiery  steeds, 
A  rosy  fingered  maiden  opens  the  purple  gate  of 
day,  upward  rush  the  steeds  through  blinding 
mist  along  the  steep  ascent  of  heaven,  down  they 
plunge  at  evening  into    the  cooling   waters  of  the 


46  CREED   AND   DEED. 

sea  ;  the  naiads  await  the  deity  and  bear  him  back- 
ward to  his  orient  home. 

Again  the  fair  youth  Adonis  is  said  to  come  out 
of  the  forest,  where  nymphs  had  nurtured  him. 
Venus  and  he  hunt  in  joyous  company  through 
wood  and  dale.  One  day  Adonis  is  slain  ;  the  blood 
that  trickled  from  his  wounds  has  turned  the  roses 
red,  and  the  tender  anemones  have  sprung  from  the 
tears  that  love  wept  when  she  beheld  his  fall.  The 
young  god  who  comes  out  of  the  forest  is  Spring ; 
for  a  time  he  disports  joyously  on  earth,  with  love 
for  his  companion,  but  his  term  of  life  is  quickly 
ended.  Spring  dies,  but  ever  returns  anew.  Among 
the  Syrian  women  it  was  customary  for  a  long 
period  to  observe  the  festival  of  the  Adoneiah  ;  with 
every  sign  of  grief  they  first  bemoaned  the  god's 
untimely  death  ;  they  beat  their  breasts,  cut  off  the 
rich  luxuriance  of  their  hair ;  showed  upon  his  effigy 
the  marks  of  the  wounds  he  had  received ;  bound 
him  with  linen  bands,  anointed  him  with  costly  oil 
and  spices,  and  then  buried  him.  On  the  seventh 
day  the  cry  was  heard,  Adonis  lives,  Adonis  is 
resurrected  from  the  grave.  The  story  of  a  young 
god  typical  of  the  Spring  who  suffers  a  premature 
death,  and  after  a  time  resurrects  from  the  grave  is 
well  known  in  the  mythologies  of  other  nations. 

The  progress  of  the  sun  through  the  sea- 
sons is    thus    personified.      The   rays   of   the    sun 


RELIGION.  47 

are  described  as  the  locks  of  the  sun-god's  hair. 
When  the  sun*s  heat  waxes,  these  locks  increase  in 
abundance,  when  it  wanes  they  diminish,  until  in 
mid-winter  the  head  of  the  sun-god  is  entirely- 
bald.  At  this  season  the  god  is  supposed  to  be 
exceedingly  weak,  and  his  eye,  bright  in  the 
summer,  is  now  become  blind.  He  is  far  from  his 
home,  and  subject  to  the  power  of  his  enemies,  the 
wintry  storms.  These  traits  recur  in  the  familiar 
Hebrew  myth  of  Samson.  The  word  Samson 
means  sun ;  he  is  bound  with  ropes,  as  is  also  the 
sun-god  among  the  Polynesians.  The  secret  of  his 
strength  is  in  his  hair.  Shorn  of  this  the  giant 
becomes  feeble  as  a  child,  and  is  blinded  by  his 
foes. 

But  it  is  the  sun  in  its  conflict  with  the  demons 
of  the  storm,  the  sun  as  a  warrior  and  a  hero,  that 
chiefly  attracts  the  feligious  reverence  of  the  heroic 
age.  In  nature  there  is  no  more  striking  exhibition 
of  power  than  is  revealed  in  the  phenomena  of  the 
thunder-storm.  Even  to  us  it  has  not  lost  its 
sublimity,  and  a  sense  of  awe  overcomes  us  when- 
ever the  mighty  spectacle  is  enacted  in  the  heavens. 
Primitive  man  had  a  far  deeper  interest  in  the  issue 
of  the  tempest  than  we  are  now  capable  of  appre- 
ciating. To  him  the  clouds  appeared  to  be  fero- 
cious monsters,  and  when  they  crowded  about  the 
central  luminary,  he  feared  that  they  might  quench 


48  CREED  AND   DEED. 

its  light  in  everlasting  darkness.  The  very  exis- 
tence of  the  universe  seemed  to  be  threatened. 
The  sun-god,  the  true  friend  of  man,  however 
arises  to  wage  war  against  the  demons :  a  terrific 
uproar  follows  and  the  contending  forces  meet. 
Do  you  hear  Thor*s  far-sounding  hammer,  Jove*s 
bolt  falling  in  the  thunder  clap :  do  you  see  Indra*s 
lightning-spear  flashing  across  the  sky,  and  piercing 
the  sides  of  the  storm  dragon?  The  light  triumphs  ; 
the  tempest  rolls  away,  but  presently  returns  to  be 
again  defeated.  In  this  way  arose  the  transparent 
stories  of  Jupiters  conflict  with  Typhon,  his  pre- 
cipitate flight,  and  his  final  victory  ;  the  story  of 
Indra's  warfare  against  the  writhing  serpent,  Vritra, 
and  numerous  others  that  might  be  mentioned. 
It  is  the  sun-god  who  flashes  the  lightning  and 
hurls  the  thunder.  To  him  men  owe  the  mainte- 
nance of  the  order  of  existence. '  He  is  the  mightiest 
of  the  gods.  Fighting  their  battles  on  high,  he  is 
invoked  by  the  warriors  to  aid  them  in  their  earthly 
conflicts ;  he  takes  precedence  of  all  the  other  dei- 
ties ;  he  the  strongest  god  is  raised  to  the  throne 
of  the  celestial  state. 

Now  if  we  study  the  history  of  these  deities, 
their  intercourse  among  themselves  and  with  men, 
we  find  them  to  be  no  more  than  colossal  images 
of  ourselves  cast  on  the  mists  of  the  unknown.  It 
is  our  face  and  form   that  Jupiter  wears  ;  the  echo 


RELIGION.  49 

of  our  wishes  comes  back  to  us  in  his  oracles.  "  If 
horses  and  cows  could  draw  their  gods,"  an  ancient 
philosopher  has  pointedly  said,  *'  as  horses  and  cows 
would  they  draw  them."  The  gods  share  our 
passions,  the  good  and  the  evil,  distinguish-ed  only 
in  this,  that  what  we  feebly  attempt,  they  can 
execute  on  a  scale  of  gigantic  magnitude.  They 
love  and  bless  and  shower  a  thousand  gifts  upon 
their  worshippers ;  but  they  can  hate  also  ;  are  vain, 
vindictive,  cruel. 

The  gods  demand  tribute.  Like  the  kings  of 
earth,  they  received  the  best  share  of  the  spoils  of 
war  and  of  the  chase  ;  and  gold  and  silver  also  was 
deposited  in  their  sanctuaries.  Perfumed  incense 
and  dainty  cakes  were  placed  upon  their  altars. 
The  gods  are  hungry,  they  must  be  fed.  The  gods 
are  thirsty,  and  certain  strong  narcotic  beverages 
were  brewed  especially  for  their  benefit.  For  this 
among  the  Hindoos  the  juice  of  the  soma  plant 
was  mixed  with  pure  milk. 

The  gods  demand  blood.  The  wide  prevalence 
of  human  sacrifice  is  the  saddest  fact  that  stains  the 
annals  of  religious  history.  Among  the  Fijians 
the  new  boat  of  the  chieftain  was  not  permitted  to 
venture  upon  the  waves  until  it  had  been  washed 
with  human  blood,  in  order  to  secure  it  against 
shipwreck.  Among  the  Khonds  of  India,  we  learn 
that  the  body  of  a  human  victim  was  literally  torn 
3 


50  CREED  AND  DEED. 

in  pieces  and  his  blood  mixed  with  the  new  turned 
clod,  in  order  to  insure  a  plentiful  harvest.  It  is 
estimated  that  at  least  twenty-five  hundred  human 
beings  were  annually  sacrificed  in  the  temples  of 
Mexico.  Human  sacrifice  was  known  among  the 
Greeks,  and  its  practice  among  the  Hebrews  is 
recorded  in  the  Hebrew  Bible. 

When  the  manners  of  men  ameliorated,  and 
gentler  customs  began  to  supplant  the  barbarous 
usages  of  an  earlier  day,  the  tyranny  of  the  gods 
was  still  feared,  but  various  modes  of  substitution 
were  adopted  to  appease  their  jealousy  of  human 
happiness.  In  India  we  are  told,  that  the  god  of 
light  being  displeased  with  the  constant  effusion  of 
blood,  commanded  a  buffalo  to  appear  from  out  the 
jungle,  and  a  voice  was  heard  saying,  sacrifice  the 
buffalo  and  liberate  the  man. 

Another  mode  of  substitution  was  to  give  a  part 
for  the  whole.  Some  one  member  of  the  body  was 
mutilated  or  curtailed  in  order  to  indicate  that  the 
person's  life  was  in  reality  forfeit  to  the  god. 
Among  certain  of  the  aboriginal  tribes  of  America, 
the  youth,  on  reaching  the  years  of  maturity,  was 
forced  to  place  his  hand  upon  a  buffalo's  skull,  and 
one  or  more  joints  of  the  finger  were  then  cut  off 
and  dedicated  to  the  great  spirit.  There  were  other 
modes  of  mutilation  of  which  I  dare  not  speak,  but 
I   will   briefly   add   that    the   so-called   rite  of  the 


RELIGION.  Si 

covenant,  which  is  practised  among  the  Jews  even 
at  the  present  day,  rose  in  exactly  the  same  manner. 
Of  course  the  original  signification  of  the  custom 
has  been  forgotten  and  a  purely  symbolical  mean- 
ing has  been  attached  to  it.  Nevertheless,  its 
continuance  is  a  disgrace  to  religion.  The  grounds 
of  sanity  on  which  it  is  urged,  are  not  in  themselves 
tenable,  and  if  they  were,  religion  would  have  no 
concern  with  them.  It  is  but  a  fresh  instance  of 
the  stubborn  vitality  which  seems  to  inhere  in  the 
hoary  superstitions  of  the  past. 

Occasionally,  when  a  whole  people  was  threat- 
ened with  destruction,  some  prominent  and  beloved 
individual  was  selected  for  sacrifice,  in  order  that 
by  his  death  he  might  save  the  rest.  The  same 
feature  was  also  introduced  into  the  legends  of  the 
gods.  Philo  tells  us  that  the  great  God  El  whom 
the  Hebrews  and  Phoenicians  worshiped,  once  de- 
scended to  earth,  and  became  a  king.  This  EI  was 
the  supreme  deity.  He  had  an  only  son  whom  he 
loved.  One  day  when  great  dangers  threatened  his 
people,  the  god  determined  to  sacrifice  his  only  be- 
gotten [uovoyevTfi)  son  and  to  redeem  his  people :  and 
year  by  year  thereafter  a  solemn  festival  was  cele- 
brated in  Phoenicia  in  honor  of  that  great  sacrifice. 

The  religion  of  force  has  left  its  dark  traces  in 
the  history  of  mankind.  Even  the  higher  religions 
accepted,   while    they    spiritualized,    its   degrading 


52  CREED  AND  DEED. 

conceptions  into  their  systems.  Slowly  only  and 
with  the  general  spread  of  intelligence  and  mor- 
ality, can  we  hope  that  its  last  vestiges  will  be 
purged  from  the  minds  of  men. 

Vastness  is  an  element  of  the  sublime.  In  the 
religious  conceptions  of  the  Hindoos  we  find  it 
illustrated.  It  entered  alike  into  the  system  of  the 
Brahmin  and  of  the  Buddhist,  and  determined  their 
tone  and  quality.  A  certain  fondness  for  the 
gigantic,  is  peculiar  to  Hindoo  character.  Witness 
the  almost  boundless  periods  of  their  ancient 
chronology  ;  the  colossal  forms  with  which  the  re- 
mains of  their  monuments  and  architecture  abound. 
A  great  Aryan  nation  having  advanced  from  the 
waters  of  the  Indus  to  the  shores  of  the  sacred 
Ganges  and  having  subdued  the  natives  by  the  force 
of  superior  numbers  or  bravery,  had  learned  to  forget 
the  active  pursuits  of  war,  and  yielded  to  the  lassi- 
tude engendered  by  the  climate  of  their  new  settle- 
ments. Around  them  they  beheld  a  rich  and  luxu- 
riant vegetation  ;  birds  of  rare  and  many  colored 
plumage,  stately  trees  rising  from  interminable 
jungles.  Ravishing  perfumes  lulled  their  senses  as 
they  reposed  in  the  shade  of  these  fairy-like  forests. 
It  was  aland  suited  to  dreamy  contemplation.  Her  j 
the  philosophic  priests  might  dwell  upon  the  vast- 
ness of  the  Universal,  and   the  imagination  bewil- 


RELIGION.  53 

dered  by  the  ever  shifting  phenomena  of  the  scene 
might  well  seek  some  principle  of  unity  which 
could  connect  and  explain  the  whole.  Brahma 
was  the  name  they  gave  to  the  pervading  Spirit 
of  All  things.  From  Brahma  the  entire  order 
of  existence  has  emanated ;  the  elements  of 
material  things,  plants,  birds,  beasts  and  men.  The 
lower  castes  came  forth  first  and  are  nearest  the 
brutes ;  the  castes  of  free-born  workmen,  and  of 
warriors  next,  the  priests  and  saints  last,  in  whom 
the  world*s  soul  found  its  loftiest  expression. 

To  Brahma  all  things  must  return.  Passing 
through  an  endless  series  of  transformations,  and 
paying  in  the  long  and  painful  interval  the  pen- 
alty of  every  crime  it  has  committed,  the  migra- 
ting spirit  of  man  is  led  back  at  last  to  its  primal 
source,  and  is  resolved  in  the  Brahma  whence  it 
arose.  The  connection  between  individual  and 
universal  life  was  thus  kept  constantly  in  view. 
The  soul  in  the  course  of  its  wanderings  might 
pass  through  every  conceivable  mode  of  existence ; 
might  assume  the  shape  of  creeping  plants  and 
worms,  and  wild  animals ;  might  rise  to  the  posses- 
sion of  miraculous  powers  in  the  heavens  of  the 
Rishis,  while  its  final  destiny  was  to  be  reunited 
with  the  One  and  All. 

The  Buddhist  Nirvana  resembles  the  Brahma 
in  being  accounted   the   ultimate  principle  of  the 


54  CREED  AND  DEED. 

world.  When  in  the  sixth  century  B.  C.  the  royal 
Hermit  of  the  ^akyas  revolted  against  the  cruel 
despotism  of  the  priesthood,  the  legend  relates  that 
the  sight  of  suffering  in  the  forms  of  sickness,  old 
age  and  death,  roused  him  from  a  life  of  indolent 
pleasure,  and  impelled  him  to  seek  a  remedy  for  the 
ills  of  human  life.  His  counsels  were  sweet  and 
kindly  ;  he  taught  self-control  and  wise  moderation 
in  the  indulgence  of  the  passions,  and  brotherly 
help  and  sympathy  to  lessen  the  evils  which  fore- 
sight cannot  avert.  He  lifted  the  degraded  masses 
of  the  Indian  land  from  out  their  dull  despair  ;  he 
warred  against  the  distinctions  of  caste,  he  took 
women  and  slaves  for  his  companions,  he  was  a 
prophet  of  the  people,  whom  the  people  loved. 
But  even  to  him  the  ills  of  this  mortal  condition 
seemed  little  when  compared  with  the  endless 
possibilities  of  future  ill  that  awaited  the  soul  in 
the  course  of  its  ceaseless  transmigrations.  He 
yearned  to  shorten  its  weary  path  to  the  goal ; 
and  the  mystic  methods  by  which  he  sought  to 
enter  Nirvana  were  a  means  adapted  to  this  end. 
Nirvana  is  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  things. 
Nirvana  in  which  there  is  neither  action  nor  feel- 
ing; in  which  intelligence  and  consciousness  are 
submerged,  appeared  to  this  pessimist  preacher 
the  last,  the  only  reality.  Life  is  a  delusion,  real 
only  in  its  pains :  the  entire  cossation  of  conscious 


RELIGION.  55 

existence,  is  the  solution  he  offers  to  human 
suffering. 

Nirvana  is  the  universal — its  conception  is  vast 
and  dim ;  it  hovers  in  the  distance  before  the  pil- 
grim of  the  earth ;  there  will  he  find  rest. 

Unlike  the  Western  nations,  the  Hindoos  re- 
garded the  idea  of  immortality  with  dread  and  ter- 
ror, rather  than  pleased  anticipation.  The  highest 
promises  of  their  religion,  were  intended  to  assure 
them  that  they  would  cease  to  continue  as  individ- 
ual beings  or  cease  to  continue  altogether.  Peace 
in  the  tomb  when  this  present  toil  is  over  seemed  to 
them  the  most  desirable  of  goods,  and  a  dreamless 
sleep  from  which  no  angel  trump  should  ever  wake 
the  sleeper. 

"  Two  things,*'  says  Kant,  "  fill  the  soul  with  ever 
new  and  increasing  admiration  and  reverence ;  the 
star-lit  heavens  above  me,  and  the  moral  law  within 
me."* 

The  Hebrews  were  the  first  to  lend  to  the  moral 
ideas  a  controlling  influence  in  the  sphere  of  religion. 
Let  me  attempt  to  briefly  sketch  the  origin  of  Mon- 
otheism amongst  them,  as  numerous  considerations 
elsewhere  recited  in  detail,  have  led  me  to  conceive 
of  it.  The  religions  of  the  Semitic  nations  who  sur- 
rounded ancient  Israel  were  intensely  emotional  in 

*  Kant's  Works  (Rosenkranz  edition)  vol.  viii.  p.  312. 


S6  CREED  AND   DEED. 

character,  and  their  gods  were  gods  of  pleasure  and 
pain.  In  the  temples  unbounded  license  alternated 
with  self  sacrificing  asceticism.  The  lewd  rites  of 
the  goddess  of  love  must  be  regarded  as  typical  of 
the  one  ;  the  slaughter  of  sons  in  honor  of  Moloch, 
of  the  other.  Now  the  Hebrews  have  been  distin- 
guished for  the  purity  of  their  home  life  from  a  very 
early  period  of  their  history.  The  high  value  which 
they  set  on  male  offspring,  the  jealous  vigilance  with 
which  they  guarded  the  virtue  of  their  women  are 
alike  illustrated  in  the  narratives  of  the  Bible.  The 
more  gifted  and  noble  minded  among  them,  behold- 
•  ing  their  domestic  feelings  outraged  by  the  prevail- 
ing religions,  rebelled  against  the  gross  conceptions 
of  idolatry.  How  could  they  offer  up  their  beloved 
sons  for  sacrifice,  how  could  they  give  over  their 
wives  and  daughters  to  shame?  The  controlling 
force  of  their  character  determined  the  doctrines  of 
their  creed.  Judaism  became,  so  to  speak,  a  family 
religion.  Jehovah  is  conceived  of  as  the  husband  of 
the  people.  Israel  shall  be  his  true  and  loyal  spouse, 
the  children  of  Israel  are  His  children.  The  image 
of  Jehovah  is  that  of  the  ideal  patriarch.  Like  the 
patriarch,  he  is  the  head  of  the  spiritual  family  of 
man.  Like  the  patriarch  in  ancient  times,  he  is  the 
lawgiver  and  the  judge ;  He  is  the  guardian  of 
domestic  purity.  The  word  for  false  religion  in 
Hebrew  signifies   fornication.       **  Contend   against 


RELIGION.  57 

your  mother,"  says  Jehovah,  "  for  I  am  not  her 
spouse,  nor  she  my  wife."  "  My  people  hist  after 
false  gods,  for  the  spirit  of  impurity  has  seduced 
them."  And  the  day  of  the  triumph  of  the  true  re- 
ligion is  thus  predicted :  **  On  that  day  thou  shalt 
not  call  me  any  more  my  Baal,  (paramour)  but  thou 
shalt  call  me  my  husband,  and  I  shall  wed  thee  in 
justice,  etc."  Thus  the  idea  of  Jehovah  sprang 
from  the  soil  of  the  family,  and  the  conception  of  a 
divine  father  in  heaven  was  derived  from  the  analogy 
of  the  noblest  of  moral  institutions  on  earth.  The 
spiritual  God  of  the  Hebrews  was  the  personification 
of  the  moral  Ideal. 

Like  his  relations  to  the  chosen  people  and  to 
mankind  in  general,  the  relations  of  the  Deity  to 
the  external  world  were  described  in  accordance 
with  the  demands  of  the  Ethical  Law.  Two  things 
morality  insists  upon  ;  first,  that  the  natural  in  its 
coarser  acceptation  shall  be  subordinate  to  the 
moral.  Secondly,  that  in  the  scale  of  values  itself 
shall  occupy  the  highest  rank,  and  that  the  pur- 
pose of  human  life  on  earth  can  only  be  a  moral 
purpose.  As  the  mechanism  of  nature  is  not  of 
itself  calculated  to  harmonize  with  the  purposes 
of  spirit,  it  behooves  that  the  spiritual  God  shall 
possess  a  power  over  matter  adequate  to  enforce 
the  claims  of  the  moral  ideal,  such  power  as  only 
the  creator  can  exert  over  his  creatures.  Hence  the 
3* 


58  CREED  AND   DEED. 

doctrine  of  the  creation.  And  again  the  state  of 
perfection  to  which  the  human  heart  aspires  can  only 
be  attained  through  the  instrumentality  of  supreme 
wisdom,  power  and  love,  in  a  millennial  age  when 
the  scheme  of  the  universe  will  be  perfected  in 
the  reign  of  absolute  justice  and  peace.  Hence  the 
doctrine  of  the  Messiah.  Both  doctrines  are  the 
typical  expression  of  a  moral  need. 

In  the  opening  of  Genesis  we  read  a  description 
of  the  making  of  the  world.  All  was  wild  vast 
chaos,  and  darkness  brooded  over  the  abyss,  when 
the  Spirit  of  Jehovah  breathed  on  the  waters ;  a 
single  word  of  command  and  light  penetrated  the 
gloom,  the  waters  divided,  the  great  luminaries 
started  forth  on  their  course  ;  the  earth  clothed  her- 
self in  verdure,  and  the  forms  of  living  beings  sprang 
into  existence.  The  words  **God  saw  everything 
he  had  made  and  behold  it  was  very  good,"  contain 
the  gist  of  the  narrative.  In  Zephaniah  and  Isaiah 
we  read :  **  On  that  day  I  will  turn  to  the  people 
a  pure  language  that  they  may  all  call  upon  the 
name  of  the  Lord  to  serve  him  with  one  consent." 
"  No  one  shall  then  do  evil,  no  one  hurt  in  all  my 
holy  mountain,  for  the  earth  shall  be  full  of  the 
knowledge  of  God  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea." 

These  visions  are  not  true  in  the  sense  of  histor- 
ical occurrences  past  or  future.  That  the  world  was 
ever   created   out  of  nothing,  what  human  under- 


RELIGION.  59 

standing  can  conceive  of  it  ?  That  a  time  will  come 
when  society  shall  be  so  transformed  that  the  pure 
language  of  love  alone  shall  be  spoken,  who  that  is 
instructed  in  the  failings  of  our  finite  nature  can 
credit  it  ?  They  are  true  in  the  sense  of  ideals ; 
true,  with  the  truth  of  poetry,  bodying  forth  in  con- 
crete shape  the  universal  yearnings  of  mankind. 

There  is  also  another  element  of  belief  associated 
with  the  doctrine  of  the  Messiah,  which  still  more 
plainly  illustrates  the  typical  value  of  religious  ten- 
ets. In  the  coming  week  the  churches  throughout 
Christendom  will  rehearse  the  story  of  the  passion 
and  the  death  of  their  founder.  Mournful  chants  and 
lamentations  will  recall  every  circumstance  of  the 
dark  drama  that  closed  on  Calvary.  That  tale  of 
harrowing  agony  still  moves  the  hearts  of  millions 
as  though  it  were  a  tale  of  yesterday.  It  is  the  sym- 
bol of  the  suffering  and  the  crucifixion  of  the  whole 
human  race.  "  Ah,  but  our  griefs  he  has  borne,  our 
sorrows  he  has  carried,  he  was  wounded  for  our 
transgressions,  he  was  bruised  for  our  iniquities." 
Hundreds  of  years  before  the  birth  of  Christ,  the 
author  of  these  lines  transcribed  in  them  the  sad  ex- 
perience of  the  reformers  of  his  day.  He  does  not 
refer  to  any  one  Messiah ;  he  speaks  of  that  legacy 
of  sacrifice  which  is  the  heritage  of  the  great  and 
good,  the  world  over.  For  who  can  help  us  when 
we  are  plunged  in  deepest  anguish,  when  it  seems  as 


6o  CREED   AND   DEED. 

though  we  must  sink  under  the  load  of  trouble,  but 
one  who  has  endured  like  trials,  endured  and  tri- 
umphed over  them  ?  It  is  the  martyrdom  of  the 
pure  that  has  redeemed  mankind  from  guilt  and  sin  ? 
There  is  this  constant  atonement  of  the  strong  for 
the  weak,  of  the  good  for  the  evil.  As  old  Paul 
Gerhard  has  it  in  his  seventeenth  century  hymn : 

"  When  utmost  dread  shall  seize  me, 
That  human  heart  can  know, 
Do  thou  from  pain  release  me, 
By  thy  great  pain  and  woe." 

The  teachings  of  religion  then  have  their  source 
in  the  aspirations  of  the  human  heart ;  are  the  echoes 
of  our  wishes  and  our  hopes.  Not  valueless  on  that 
account,  but  valuable  only  in  so  far  as  they  express 
in  noble  types,  noble  aspirations  of  our  souls.  It  were 
sad  indeed  if  morality  depended  upon  the  certainty 
of  dogma.  On  the  contrary  it  is  true  that  all  that  is 
best  and  grandest  in  dogma,  is  due  to  the  inspi- 
ration of  the  moral  law  in  man.  The  time  will  come 
when  the  tenets  of  faith  will  no  longer  be  narrowly 
understood  as  now;  and  while  their  influence  will 
still  be  great,  they  will  cease  to  be  harmful  and  con- 
fining. They  will  be  used  as  rare  imagery,  to  deck 
the  sublime  meanings  which  they  symbolize;  not 
as  vessels  that  contain  the  absolute  truth,  but  as 
choice  and  beautiful  vases,  fit  to  hold  the  ever  fresh 
and  ever  blooming  flowers  of  the  ideal. 


RELIGION.  6l 

The  dogmatic  assertion  of  religious  teachings  we 
hold  to  be  a  serious  evil,  and  dogma  as  such  we  can- 
not accept.  Its  influence  in  the  past  has  been  perni- 
cious, and  is  so  at  the  present  day  no  less.  It  has 
inflamed  the  hatred  of  man  against  his  brother  man, 
it  has  led  to  the  fatal  error  of  duties  toward  a  per- 
sonal Creator,  distinct  from  our  duties  toward  our 
fellows :  it  has  perverted  the  moral  sense,  by  giving 
to  the  concern  of  future  salvation,  a  degree  of  prom- 
inence before  which  the  interests  of  the  present 
life  sink  into  comparative  insignificance ;  it  does 
not  afford  us  a  common  basis  whereon  we  could 
unite,  for  it  is  by  nature  uncertain  and  calculated  to 
provoke  dissensions.  On  the  other  hand  we  behold 
in  conscience  the  root  of  whatever  good  religion 
has  achieved,  and  the  law  of  conscience  must  suffice 
to  guide  and  elevate  our  lives.  To  refresh  the  moral 
sentiment  is  the  one  thing  needful  in  our  time,  and 
indeed  presents  a  task  on  whose  accomplishment  the 
highest  interests  of  society  depend.  Time  will  show 
that  a  simple  appeal  to  duty  will  surely  suffice  to 
lead  men  to  more  earnest  exertions  toward  the 
good.  Time  will  show  that  those  who  know  no 
other  mode  of  salvation  than  the  salvation  which  is 
attained  by  works  of  love,  will  be  at  least  as  active 
in  the  pursuit  of  virtue  as  those  who  put  their  trust 
in  faith. 

The  gold  of  morality  has  been  variously  coined 


62  CREED  AND  DEED. 

in  the  world's  religious  systems.  Various  have  been 
the  symbols  that  were  stamped  thereon,  and  vari- 
ous the  images  of  the  King  in  whose  name  it  was 
issued,  but  their  value  so  far  as  they  had  value  was 
in  the  moral  gold  that  they  contained,  and  in 
naiight  else.  Let  Liberalism  stamp  its  coin  with 
the  Eagle  of  Liberty  only,  in  its  ethical  teachings  it 
will  still  retain  the  substance  of  all  religion. 

Dogma  we  will  keep  in  abeyance, — this  is  our 
point  of  departure,  and  the  deed  superior  to  the 
creed.  Be  it  ours  to  hold  high  the  moral  ideal, 
whether  we  clothe  it  with  personality  or  not.  Be  it 
ours  to  act  divine  things,  no  matter  how  we  regard 
divine  mysteries.  Be  it  ours  to  help  in  lifting  up 
the  fallen,  to  lend  free  utterance  to  the  complaints 
of  the  oppressed,  to  brand  the  social  iniquities  of 
our  time,  to  give  our  hearts  warmth  and  the  labor 
of  our  hands  to  the  cause  of  their  redress,  and 
to  push  on  with  whatever  power  we  may,  the 
progress  of  our  race  toward  those  high  and  holy 
goals  of  which  the  dreamers  dream,  the  prophets 
prophesy. 


III. 


THE   NEW   IDEAL. 

The  old  religions  and  science  are  at  war.  With 
pitiless  consistency  science  directs  its  attack  upon 
their  vulnerable  positions.  The  conception  of  inex- 
orable law  subverts  the  testimony  of  miracles  ;  the 
fond  belief  in  truths  divinely  revealed  fails  to  with- 
stand the  searching  analysis  of  historical  criticism  ; 
the  battle  of  science  is  yet  far  from  being  won,  but 
from  our  standpoint  the  issue  cannot  appear  doubt- 
ful. It  behooves  us  therefore  to  inquire  into  the 
moral  bearings  of  the  general  result  thus  far 
achieved  and  to  review  what  we  have  lost  and  won. 
Shall  we  succeed  thereby  in  allaying  the  sense  of 
alarm  that  is  wont  to  agitate  the  timid  heart  when 
it  beholds  so  much  that  it  confidently  believed  a 
part  of  the  everlasting  verities  of  life,  sink  back  into 
the  gulf  of  uncertainty  and  doubt  ? 

We  are  standing  at  the  portals  of  a  new  age,  and 
new  conceptions  have  arisen  of  the  purpose  which 
we  are  here  to  accomplish  and  of  the  means  of  help 
we  can  command  in  the  attempt  to  realize  our  des- 
tiny.    These    new    conceptions   we    call   The    New 


64  CREED   AND   DEED. 

Ideal.     It  IS  the  purpose  of  our  present  discourse  to 
compare  some  salient  features  of  the  old  and  new. 

The  old  and  new  Ideals  agree  in  looking  to  an 
Infinite  beyond  the  borders  of  experience,  for  it  is  in 
the  nature  of  the  ideal  to  lift  us  above  the  merely- 
real.  They  differ  in  the  direction  in  which  they  seek 
their  object,  and  the  bias  which  they  consequently 
give  to  men's  thoughts  and  actions.  Theology,  per- 
ceiving the  inability  of  reason  to  solve  the  problems 
of  the  beginning  and  the  end,  yet  unable  to  restrain 
a  desire  to  know  what  is  really  unknowable,  has 
impressed  the  imagination  into  its  service,  and 
drawn  a  picture  of  the  transcendental  world,  con- 
forming indeed  to  the  analogies  of  man's  terrestrial 
existence,  but  on  this  account  all  the  more  adapted 
to  answer  the  wishes  of  the  masses  of  mankind. 
Enough  for  them  that  they  feel  the  need  of  believ- 
ing the  picture  true.  We  of  the  New  School  are, 
if  possible,  even  more  profoundly  convinced  of  the 
limitations  of  human  reason.  We  cheerfully  accord 
to  the  religious  conceptions  of  the  past  a  poetic 
value  ;  they  are  poetry,  often  of  the  sublimest  kind  ; 
but  we  cannot  deceive  ourselves  as  to  the  noble 
weakness  of  the  heart  to  which  they  owe  their 
origin ;  we  cannot  forget  that  in  their  case  alas  the 
wish  has  been  father  to  the  thought.  To  us  the  mys- 
tery is  still  mystery — the  veiled  arcana  are  not  re- 
vealed, the  riddle  is  unread.     But  we  are  not  there- 


THE  NEW   IDEAL.  65 

fore  filled  with  terror  or  dismay.  In  the  moral 
nature  of  man  we  discover  a  divine  element.  In 
the  voice  of  conscience  we  hear  the  voice  of  the 
present  divinity  within  us,  and  we  learn  to  regard 
this  mortal  state  of  ours  as  a  channel  through 
which  the  currents  of  Eternity  ebb  and  flow 
ceaselessly.  The  divine  nature  is  not  far  off,  nor 
beyond  the  sea ;  in  our  own  hearts  on  our  own 
lips  ! 

But  let  us  seek  to  scrutinize  the  distinctive  fea- 
tures of  the  old  and  new  more  closely.  The  old 
ideal  was  supernatural  in  character,  it  taught  man 
to  regard  his  life  on  earth  as  a  brief,  temporary 
transit,  himself  an  exile  from  the  Kingdom  on  high. 
The  concerns  of  the  present  world  were  in  conse- 
quence deemed  of  secondary  importance,  and  the 
eye  dwelt  with  anxious  preference  on  the  dim 
chances  of  the  hereafter.  Where  the  hope  of  im- 
mortality has  been  prominently  put  forward  by 
any  leligion,  the  effect  has  thus  but  too  often 
proved  disastrous  to  the  progress  and  security  of 
society.  It  is  well-known  by  what  painful  penances 
the  monks  of  the  Middle  Ages  sought  release  from 
the  trammels  of  the  flesh,  how  they  affected  to  de- 
spise the  ties  of  domestic  affection,  how  they  re- 
tarded the  advancement  of  knowledge,  how  the 
passions  which  they  sought  in  vain  to  suppress, 
often  recoiled  upon  them  with  fearful  retribution* 


66    •  CREED   AND   DEED. 

and  gave  rise  to  disorders  which  seriously  under- 
mined public  virtue. 

But  not  only  has  supernaturalism  tended  indi- 
rectly to  weaken  the  springs  of  virtue,  it  has  called 
into  being  an  order  of  men  whose  very  existence  is  a 
standing  menace  to  the  freedom  of  intellect  and  the 
rights  of  conscience.  The  distance  between  the 
Creator  and  his  creatures  is  so  great,  that  the  inter- 
vention of  some  third  party  is  deemed  necessary  to 
mediate  between  the  finite  and  the  Infinite.  The 
priest  steps  in  to  perform  this  office,  and  his  influ- 
ence is  great  in  proportion  to  the  value  of  the  services 
which  he  is  supposed  to  render.  Furthermore  it  is 
believed  that  the  personal  deity  requires  the  perform- 
ance of  certain  actions  in  his  honor,  and  what  these 
actions  are  is  again  left  to  the  priest  to  determine. 
In  this  manner  the  ceremonial  part  of  religion  grows 
up,  and  acquires  a  degree  of  importance  fatal  to  the 
moral  life.  The  duties  toward  God  transcend  the  du- 
ties toward  man,  and  but  too  often  usurp  their  place. 

The  Bible  likens  the  relations  of  man  to  God  to 
those  of  a  child  to  its  father.  It  is  true  supernatu- 
raHsm  has  often  proved  a  valuable  stay  to  those 
already  morally  strong,  and  it  were  absurd  to  deny 
that  under  its  fostering  care  many  of  the  noblest 
qualities  that  distinguish  the  filial  relation  have  been 
developed  in  the  lives  of  religious  men.  It  is  from 
no  lack  of  appreciation   on  our  part  that  we  have 


THE   NEW  IDEAL.  6/ 

dwelt  on  the  evils  rather  than  the  blessings  it  has 
brought.  But  in  acknowledging  that  we  have  really- 
lost  the  sense  of  protection,  the  childlike  trust  which 
lend  such  rare  beauty  to  the  character  of  many 
ancient  models  of  piety,  we  deemed  it  important 
to  point  to  the  shades  that  darken  the  picture  of  the 
supernatural  religions,  its  lights  are  made  the  theme 
of  a  thousand  discourses  week  after  week,  and  are 
hardly  in  any  danger  of  being  speedily  forgotten. 

From  the  back-ground  of  the  old  Ideal  stands 
out  in  bold  relief  the  new.  It  is  the  reverse  of 
supernatural ;  if  it  takes  pride  in  anything,  it  is  in 
marking  a  return  to  nature.  Trammels  of  the  flesh, 
contamination  of  the  body  ?  There  is  nothing  it 
tells  us  in  itself  contaminating.  The  body  is  not 
alien  to  the  mind,  it  is  the  seed  plot  from  which 
mind  flowers  out  in  every  part.  Regard  the  form 
of  man,  observe  the  quick  play  of  the  features,  the 
expressive  smile,  the  speaking  glance,  every  attitude, 
every  gesture  full  of  meaning,  the  whole  body  irradi- 
ated as  it  were,  with  the  indwelling  intelligence. 
And  so  the  passions  too  which  we  are  wont  to  as- 
sociate with  our  corporeal  nature  are  but  the  rough 
material  from  which  the  artist  soul  behind  them 
fashions  its  immortal  types  of  beauty  and  of  holi- 
ness. There  is  a  graceless  inuendo  in  the  term 
nature,  as  of  something  hard,  gross,  material.  In 
truth,  nature  is  the  subtlest,  most  ethereal  presence 


68  CREED  AND   DEED. 

of  which  we  catch  a  gleam  only  at  rare  intervals,  the 
reflex  of  a  hidden  light  that  glimmers  through  the 
facts  and  motions  of  the  world.  Take  the  nature 
of  water  for  instance.  Is  it  in  the  hydrogen,  in  the 
oxygen,  in  the  single  atom  ?  Not  there,  yet  there ! 
somewhere  hovering,  imponderous,  elusive.  It 
comes  nighest  to  the  senses  when  the  atoms  act  and 
react  upon  each  other,  in  the  flow  of  mighty  rivers, 
in  the  leap  of  cataracts,  in  the  turmoil  of  the  sea. 
Or  the  nature  of  the  tree ;  is  it  in  the  roots,  in  the 
trunk,  in  the  spreading  branches,  the  leafy  crown  ? 
Perhaps  in  the  fruit  more  than  elsewhere  the  hidden 
being  of  the  tree  comes  forth  into  external  reality, 
and  opens  to  the  eye  and  touch.  In  action  and 
fruition  the  deeper  nature  appears.  Thus  in  the 
outward  world,  and  thus  in  man.  Our  soul-life,  too, 
is  a  flowing  stream,  whose  power  is  not  in  any  part 
but  in  the  ceaseless,  changeful  motion  of  the  whole, 
that  forms  a  strong  spiritual  current  on  which  our 
thoughts  and  sentiments  move  like  swimmers  to- 
ward an  infinite  sea.  And  like  a  tree  are  we,  with 
the  mighty  trunk  of  intellect,  the  spreading  branches 
of  imagination,  the  fibrous  roots  of  the  lower  in- 
stincts, that  bind  us  to  the  earth.  But  the  moral 
life  is  the  fruit  we  bear ;  in  it  our  true  nature  is  re- 
vealed ;  in  it  we  see  the  purpose  of  our  being  fulfilled. 
So  when  we  speak  of  a  return  to  nature,  it  is  this 
higher  nature  to  which  we  refer,  whose  origin  we 


THE  NEW   IDEAL.  69 

know  not,  but  whose  workings  we  feel,  and  know 
them  by  the  token  of  the  sweet  satisfaction  they 
afford  us  to  be  the  crown  and  glory  of  our  lives. 
The  old  Ideal  emphasizes  the  Eternal  that  is  with- 
out us  ;  the  new  the  Eternal  that  is  within  our- 
selves. The  old  styles  us  exiles  from  the  kingdom 
of  truth;  the  new  summons  us  to  be  the  banner- 
bearers  of  truth  ;  the  old  points  to  a  heaven  beyond 
the  earth,  the  new  tells  us  that  our  earth  too  is  a 
part  of  the  heaven,  a  light-world,  among  endless 
worlds  of  light. 

If  secondly  we  consider  the  means  of  support 
at  our  disposal  in  the  pursuit  of  the  ideal,  we  find 
prayer  in  universal  use  among  the  adherents  of 
the  old.  Prayer  in  the  sense  of  supplication,  has 
been  defined  as  "  a  request  made  to  the  Deity  as  if 
he  were  a  man.'*  And  truly  the  language  of  prayer 
often  tallies  with  this  description.  "  Let  me  succeed 
in  this  undertaking,"  prays  the  Indian,  **  that  I 
may  slay  my  enemy  and  bring  home  the  tokens  of 
victory  to  my  dear  family,  in  order  that  they  may 
rejoice  together.  Have  pity  on  me  and  protect 
my  life,  and  I  will  bring  thee  an  offering."  Some 
such  inducement  as  the  last  is  frequently  coupled 
with  the  petition,  "  Here  is  an  offering  for  you,  O 
God !  Look  kindly  towards  this  family,  let  it 
prosper  and  increase,  and  let  us  all  be  in  good 
health."     "  Let  me  come  upon  my  enemies  speedily, 


^0  CREED   AND   DEED. 

let  me  find  them  sleeping  and  not  awake,  and  let 
me  slay  a  good  many  of  them/*  "  I  pray  for  cattle, 
I  pray  for  corn,  I  ask  also  for  children,  in  order  that 
this  village  may  have  a  large  population,  and  that 
your  name  may  never  come  to  an  end,  for  of  old 
we  have  lived  by  your  favor,  let  us  continue  to 
receive  it.  Remember  that  the  increase  of  our 
produce  is  the  increase  of  your  worship,  and  that 
its  diminution  must  be  the  diminution  of  your 
rites.'*  Among  the  Hindoos  the  efficacy  ascribed 
to  prayer  was  such  that  the  gods  themselves  were 
deemed  powerless  to  resist  it,  and  the  mystic  invo- 
cations of  the  priests  exerted  a  fateful  influence  on 
the  destinies  of  the  world.  The  ancient  and 
modern  literature  of  the  Hebrews  likewise  testifies 
to  their  faith  in  prayer,  and  Christianity  has  herein 
followed  if  not  outstripped  their  example.  In  case 
of  drought  the  following  prayer  is  oflered  in  many 
of  our  churches :  **  Send  us,  we  beseech  thee,  in  this 
our  necessity,  such  moderate  rain  and  showers  that 
we  may  receive  the  fruits  of  the  earth  to  our  com- 
fort and  to  thy  honor.'*  In  case  of  storms  :  **  We 
humbly  beseech  thee  to  restrain  these  immoderate 
rains,  wherewith  for  our  sins  thou  hast  afflicted  us, 
and  we  pray  thee  to  send  such  seasonable  weather 
that  the  earth  may  in  due  time  yield  her  increase 
for  our  benefit.'*  In  case  of  famine,  "  Increase  the 
fruits  of  the  earth   by  thy  heavenly   benediction, 


THE  NEW  IDEAL.  7 1 

and  grant  that  the  scarcity  and  dearth  which  we 
now  most  justly  suffer  for  our  sins,  through  thy 
goodness  may  be  turned  into  plenty.**  In  case  o£ 
sickness,  prayers  are  offered  for  the  recovery  of  the 
sufferer. 

Against  all  these  forms  of  petition  the  modern 
view  of  life  emphatically  protests.  It  starts  with 
the  grandest  of  scientific  generalizations,  that  of  the 
universality  of  nature's  laws.  These  laws  cannot 
be  broken  ;  they  govern  the  course  of  the  planets 
as  they  revolve  through  space,  they  appear  in  the 
slightest  eddy  of  dust  that  rises  on  our  streets. 
The  world  is  a  Kosmos ;  to  pray  for  a  change  in  its 
arrangements  is  to  pray  for  its  destruction.  The 
rains  come  when  they  must  come,  and  the  earth 
yields  or  withholds  her  crop,  as  a  system  of  causes 
determined  from  immeasurable  aeons  of  time  pre- 
scribes. Is  the  God  to  whom  men  pray  so  poor  a 
workman  that  he  will  change  the  mechanism  of  the 
Universe  at  their  bidding?  If  all  that  is,  is  his 
work,  why  then  the  drought  is  his  work,  and  the 
famine,  and  the  sickness  are  his  work,  and  they  are, 
because  he  has  willed  that  they  should  be.  **  The 
gods  help  them  that  help  themselves.**  We  are 
placed  in  a  world  with  which  we  are  but  half 
acquainted ;  our  business  is  to  know  it  thoroughly. 
All  the  history  of  mankind  from  the  beginning  has 
been  a  series  of  tentative  struggles  to  acquire  this 


^2  CREED  AND  DEED. 

precious   knowledge,   and    we   have   made    indeed 
some  headway.     We  began  by  defending  ourselves 
against  the  attacks  of  wild  beasts  ;  we  tilled  the  soil ; 
we   invented    tools,    we   formed   communities,   we 
moderated  the  friction  of  social  intercourse ;  we  dis- 
covered the  talisman  of  science,  and  the  Aladdin's 
lamp  of  art.     In  the   treatment   of  disease   also   a 
great   advance   has  been   made.     When   the  May- 
flower reached  the  American  continent,  she  found 
a  bleak  and   barren   shore,  full   only  of  graves.     A 
great  epidemic  had  swept  over   the  Indian  tribes, 
and    the    natives   fell    like   dead   flies   before    the 
scourge.     They  had  charms  and  prayers  ;  these  did 
not  help  them.     We   have   accomplished   a   little; 
we  are  bound  to  aim  at  more.     Why  then  call  in 
the   supernatural?     It   will   not  come,   though   we 
call  never  so  loudly.     The  vain  attempt  does  but 
keep  us  from  that  which   is  more   needful,  active 
exertion  and  strenuous  efforts  at  self-help.     But  we 
are  told  that  our  success  is  poor  at  best,  and  that 
in  the  vast  majority  of  cases,  all  our  exertions  avail 
nothing :  moreover  it  is  said  that  man  is  too  frail 
and  feeble  a  creature  to  depend  upon  himself  alone 
in   times  of  trial,  and  that  prayer,   whether  it   be 
answered  or  not,  is   valuable  as  a  means  of  conso- 
lation that  soothes  and  stills  the  heart.     It  is  but 
too  true  that  our  achievements  fall  far  short  of  our 
desires.     Let  those  that  do  not,  cannot  pray,  seek 


THE  NEW   IDEAL.  73 

support  in  the  sympathies  of  their  kind,  and  where 
self-help  fails,  mutual  help  will  offer  them  an  inex- 
haustible source  of  strength  and  comfort.  As  for 
that  species  of  prayer  which  is  not  addressed  to  a 
personal  God  at  all,  but  claims  to  be  an  aspiration, 
an  outpouring  of  the  spirit,  we  do  fail  to  see  how 
it  deserves  the  name  of  prayer  in  any  sense.  The 
use  of  the  vocative,  and  of  the  pronoun  thou  is 
certainly  calculated  to  mislead,  and  the  appearance 
of  inconsistency  is  hardly  avoidable. 

Lastly,  the  old  Ideal  was  stationary,  retro- 
spective ;  it  placed  its  paradise  at  the  beginning  of 
human  history.  In  the  far  off  past  it  beheld  our 
best  and  loftiest  hopes  anticipated  and  realized. 
Then  the  full  significance  of  life  had  been  reached ; 
then  the  oracles  had  spoken  loudly  and  clearly 
whose  faint  echoes  now  float  like  memories  of  half 
forgotten  melodies  to  our  ear;  then  the  imper- 
ishable truths  were  revealed  in  those  olden,  golden 
days.  Not  so,  says  the  new  Ideal.  Rude  and 
wretched  were  the  beginnings  of  mankind  on  earth, 
poor  the  mind,  and  void  the  heart.  Far  from  being 
exemplary,  the  ideas  of  right  and  wrong  entertained 
by  our  earliest  progenitors  were  infinitely  below  our 
own.  Not  indeed,  that  the  substance  of  the  moral 
sentiment  has  ever  perceptibly  changed.  The  in- 
herent principle  of  right  remains  the  same,  but  it 
assumes  higher  forms  and  is  applied  on  a  wider 
4 


74  CREED   AND   DEED. 

scale  as  the  race  advances.  Thus  the  com- 
mandment not  to  kill  a  being  like  ourselves  was 
recognized  from  the  first,  but  in  the  earliest  times, 
only  members  of  the  same  family  were  esteemed 
beings  like  ourselves  ;  to  kill  a  neighbor  was  not 
wrong.  The  family  widened  into  the  clan,  the  clan 
into  the  people,  and  all  the  nations  are  now  em- 
braced in  the  common  bond  of  humanity.  Thus 
step  by  step  the  life  of  the  clansman,  the  fellow 
citizen  and  at  last  of  every  human  being  came  to  be 
regarded  as  sacred.  From  a  common  centre  mor- 
ality has  developed  outward  in  concentric  circles. 
In  different  ages  also  different  virtues  predominated. 
Patriotism  was  esteemed  highest  in  the  Roman 
world  ;  self-sacrifice  and  chastity  in  the  first  Chris- 
tian communities.  But  whatever  had  thus  been 
gained  was  not  thereafter  lost.  Each  age  added  its 
own  to  the  stock  of  virtue ;  each  contributed  its 
share  to  swell  the  treasure  of  mankind.  The 
struggle  for  existence  that  raged  fiercely  on  the 
lower  levels  of  culture,  loses  its  harsher  aspects  as 
we  advance  upon  the  path  of  civilization.  The 
methods  of  force  by  which  the  unfit  were  eliminated 
are  gradually  falling  into  disrepute,  if  not  into 
disuse.  At  last  thq  good  will  survive  because  of  its 
own  persuasive  excellency.  The  conflict  will  be- 
come one  of  ideas  merely,  an  emulous  peaceful 
contest  for  the  prize  of  truth. 


THE  NEW  IDEAL.  75 

That  the  manners  of  the  modern  world  have 
indeed  become  ameliorated,  our  own  brief  experi- 
ence as  a  society  serves  to  illustrate.  A  few  cen- 
turies ago,  such  an  enterprise  as  ours  would  never 
have  been  attempted,  or  if  undertaken,  would  have 
been  speedily  crushed  by  the  arm  of  authority  or 
the  weight  of  prejudice.  We  will  not  say  that  big- 
otry is  dead ;  the  fires  of  persecution  still  slumber 
beneath  their  ashes,  and  now  and  then  start  up 
into  pretty  bonfires  to  amuse  the  idle  crowd  ;  but 
the  time  has  gone  by  when  they  could  mount  on 
funeral  pyres — they  can  kindle  conflagrations  no 
more. 

The  new  Ideal  is  progressive.  Whatever  we 
have  achieved,  it  tells  us  there  are  larger  achieve- 
ments yet  beyond.  As  we  rise  in  the  scale  of 
moral  worth,  the  eye  becomes  clearer  and  wider  of 
vision.  We  see  in  remote  ages  a  race  of  men 
freer  and  stronger  because  of  our  toils,  and  that 
is  our  dearest  hope  and  our  sweetest  recompense 
that  they  shall  reap  what  we  have  sown. 

The  old  and  the  new  Ideals  will  struggle  for 
the  mastery ;  that  which  is  stronger  will  conquer  as 
of  old,  in  the  struggle  for  existence.  But  the  new 
hope  fills  us  with  trust  and  gladness  that  that  which 
is  true  will  be  strong. 


IV. 


THE   PRIESTS   OF  THE   IDEAL. 

It  is  with  good  reason,  that  the  very  name  of 
the  priesthood,  has  become  odious  to  the  modern 
mind.  How  has  their  fanaticism  drenched  the  earth 
with  blood,  how  has  their  unbridled  ambition  sown 
seeds  of  discord  among  the  nations  ;  how  lament- 
able a  commentary  is  the  record  of  their  frailties 
upon  the  assumption  of  superior  sanctity  and  God- 
given  authority.  Yet  it  is  not  the  priestly  office, 
but  its  abuse,  which  has  proved  of  evil,  nor  has  the 
time  yet  come,  when  the  ministry  of  priests  can 
be  safely  dispensed  with.  There  shall  come  a  new 
Ideal  to  attract  men's  reverence  and  a  new  service 
of  the  Infinite  and  a  new  priesthood  also  to  do  its 
ministry.  It  is  of  this  modern  priesthood,  I  would 
speak. 

Fear  not  that  I  am  about  to  advocate  a  return 
to  that  system  of  spiritual  bondage,  from  which  we 
have  but  just  escaped.  The  priests  to  whom  we 
allude  shall  not  be  known  by  cassock  or  surplice. 
It  is  not  at  the  altar  they  shall  serve,  least  of  all 
shall   they  have   dogmas  to   communicate.     They 


THE  PRIESTS  OF  THE  IDEAL.  ^J 

shall  not  be  more  than  human,  only  if  possible  more 
human.  Priests  have  we  of  science,  we  name  them 
so  ;  men  whose  whole  soul  is  wrapped  up  in  the  pur- 
suit of  knowledge  :  priests  of  art,  who  dedicate  their 
lives  to  the  service  of  the  Beautiful,  priests  also  of 
the  Moral,  artists  of  the  Good,  sages  in  the  science 
of  Virtue,  teachers  of  the  Ideal. 

Let  us  consider  for  a  moment,  in  order  to  illus- 
trate our  meaning,  the  life  of  one  such  priest,  whose 
fame  has  come  down  to  us  undimmed  by  the  corrod- 
ing influence  of  time — the  life  of  Socrates.  He  held 
no  office,  he  ministered  at  no  shrine,  yet  he  was  m 
the  true  sense  a  priest.  A  plain  unpretentious  man, 
content  to  live  on  coarse  fare,  inured  to  want,  homely 
in  appearance,  using  homely  language ;  nothing  had 
he  in  appearance  to  attract ;  yet  the  gay  youths  left 
their  feasts  and  frolics  when  he  approached,  and 
the  busy  market-place  was  hushed  to  listen  to  the 
strange  wisdom  of  his  sayings ;  there  was  indeed  a 
singular  and  potent  charm  in  this  man  s  soul.  He 
had  a  great  need  of  righteousness,  wonderful,  how 
he  awakened  the  same  need  in  the  hearts  of  the 
Athenian  burghers  of  his  day.  He  was  the  reverse 
of  dogmatic.  In  comparison  with  the  vastness  of 
the  unknown,  he  was  wont  to  say,  all  human  knowl- 
edge is  little  even  to  nothingness,  he  did  not  assume 
to  know  the  truth,  but  strove  to  assist  men  in  find- 
ing truths  for  themselves.     He  had  hisi  own  enlight- 


78  CREED  AND   DEED.       . 

ened  views  on  questions  of  theology.  But  far 
from  desiring  to  convert  others  to  his  convictions, 
he  rather  sought  to  divert  their  attention  from  those 
mysterious  problems,  in  which  men  can  never  be 
wise,  problems  that  are  no  nearer  their  solution  to- 
day, than  they  were  two  thousand  years  ago.  To 
those  who  questioned  him  concerning  religion  he  re- 
plied :  Are  ye  then  masters  of  the  humanities,  that 
ye  seek  to  pry  into  divine  secrets?  His  father  had 
been  a  fashioner  of  statues  before  him,  he  was  a 
fashioner  of  souls  !  This  Socrates  was  condemned 
to  suffer  death  on  the  charge  of  atheism,  and  met  his 
fate  with  the  calmness  of  the  philosophic  mind.  If 
death,  he  said,  is  progress  to  untried  spheres,  then 
welcome  death  !  If  it  is  sleep  only,  then  also  wel- 
come death  and  its  deep  repose.  All  the  tokens  of 
the  priest  were  fulfilled  in  him.  He  was  true  to 
himself  and  unbared  to  others  the  veiled  truths  of 
their  own  higher  nature.  He  was  a  loftier  presence 
on  earth,  a  living  flame  fed  from  its  own  central  be- 
ing, a  sun  to  which  the  world  turned  and  was  there- 
by enlightened.  We  perceive  then,  that  what  we 
desire  is  not  a  new  thing.  There  has  been  this 
service  of  the  Ideal  from  the  earliest  times.  Only 
a  new  plea  would  we  urge  for  larger  fidelity  to  that 
which  the  best  have  striven  for,  and  which  under 
new  conditions  it  will  be  the  glory  of  our  age  to 
approach  more  nearly. 


THE  PRIESTS  OF  THE  IDEAL.  79 

The  priest  shall  be  a  teacher  of  the  **  Ideal,'*  but 
what  is  the  Ideal  and  how  distinguish  it  from  the 
Real.  Regard  the  trees,  behold  their  number,  the 
wondrous  plenitude  of  their  kinds.  There  is  the 
lithe  and  slender  pine,  the  mighty  oak,  the  stately 
palm,  the  tender  willow.  Alike  yet  most  unlike. 
And  who  has  ever  seen  the  perfect  tree  !  Observe 
the  expressive  features  of  the  human  face.  How 
many  thousands  of  such  faces  are  born  into  the 
world  each  year  and  yet  no  two  alike.  By  what  fine 
shades,  what  scarce  perceptible  curves,  what  delicate 
touches  has  nature's  chisel  marked  them  each  apart. 
Graceful  forms  and  lovely  faces  there  are,  yet  per- 
fect none.  Now  the  Ideal  is  the  perfection  of  the 
Real.  To  find  it  we  must  go  beyond  the  Realities. 
We  study  the  nature  of  the  tree,  of  man.  We  note 
the  suggestions  of  the  various  parts,  complete  and 
produce  them  in  utmost  harmony,  each  perfect  in 
itself,  each  serving  by  its  own  perfection,  the 
rounded  symmetry  of  the  whole.  In  the  image  thus 
created  we  grasp  the  ideal  form.  Art  with  its  genial 
enchantments,  creates  such  images  and  gives  them 
permanence  in  pure  types  of  immortal  significance. 
Art  is  idealism  of  form. 

The  intellect  also,  which  looks  out  from  behind 
the  features,  the  indwelling  man,  exhibits  the  same 
twofold  aspect  of  the  Real  and  Ideal.  Our  real 
thoughts  are  incomplete  and  inadequate.     We  are 


8o  CREED  AND   DEED. 

led  astray  a  thousand  times  by  false  analogies,  we 
are  decoyed  into  the  labyrinths  of  fancy,  we  become 
the  victims  of  impression,  the  toys  of  circumstance. 
But  deep  down  in  the  basic  structure  of  the  mind 
are  true  laws,  unerring  guides.  Logic  expresses 
them,  logic  is  the  idealism  of  intellect. 

And  lastly  we  recognize  the  same  distinction  in 
the  realm  of  feeling.  To  the  untutored  caprice,  the 
overmastering  impulse,  in  brief  to  the  realism  of  the 
passions  is  opposed  the  law  of  right  feeling,  which 
ethics  expresses.  Ethics  is  the  idealism  of  charac- 
ter. We  call  this  last  the  capital  revelation  of  man's 
nature.  The  moral  law  is  not  derivative,  it  can  not 
be  proven,  it  can  not  be  denied.  It  is  the  root  from 
which  springs  every  virtue,  every  grace,  all  wisdom 
and  all  achievement.  An  attempt  has  indeed  been 
made  to  base  morality  upon  a  certain  commonplace 
utility,  but  true  morality  scorns  your  sad  utilities. 
That  is  useful,  which  serves  an  object  besides 
itself,  while  morality  is  itself  an  end,  and  needs  and 
admits  no  sanction  save  its  own  excellency.  As  it 
delights  the  man  of  science  to  expand  his  judg- 
ment in  ever  wider  and  wider  generalizations,  as  the 
larger  thought  is  ever  the  truer  thought,  so  is  there 
an  exquisite  pleasure  and  an  unspeakable  reward  in 
expanding  the  narrow  consciousness  of  self  in  the 
unselfish,  and  the  larger  emotion  is  ever  the  nobler 
emotion.     We  speak  of  the  moral  Ideal,  as  TiiK 


THE  PRIESTS  OF  THE  IDEAL.  8l 

Ideal,  because  it  expresses  the  central  idea  of 
human  life,  the  purpose  of  our  existence  on  earth. 
To  expound  and  illustrate  its  bearings  on  our  daily 
duties,  our  joys,  our  griefs  and  our  aspirations,  is 
the  scope  and  limit  of  the  priestly  office. 

The  moral  ideal  would  embrace  the  whole  of 
life.  Before  it  nothing  is  petty  or  indifferent,  it 
touches  the  veriest  trifles  and  turns  them  into 
shining  gold.  We  are  royal  by  virtue  of  it,  and 
like  the  kings  in  the  fairy  tale,  we  may  never  lay 
aside  our  crowns.  It  tells  us,  that  nothing  shall 
be  for  its  uses  only,  but  all  things  shall  take  their 
tone  and  quality  from  the  central  idea. 

When  we  build  a  house,  it  shall  not  be  for  its 
uses  only.  We  shall  have  kitchens  and  drawing 
rooms  and  libraries  and  pictures  and  flowers,  if 
possible.  But  the  house,  with  all  its  comforts  and 
luxuries,  is  mere  framework,  and  our  words  and 
doings  construct  the  true,  the  spiritual  home. 
When  we  sit  down  to  table,  it  shall  not  be  for  the 
use  of  the  food  and  the  flavor  of  the  wine  only,  but 
morality  should  preside  at  the  feast  and  lend  it 
grace  and  dignity.  Morality  does  not  mope  in 
corners,  is  not  sour  nor  gloomy.  It  loves  genial 
fellowship,  loves  to  convert  our  meanest  wants  into 
golden  occasions  for  joy  and  sympathy  and  happy 
communion.  Manners  too  are  the  offspring  of 
character.  We  do  not  rate  highly  the  dry  and 
4" 


82  CREED  AND   DEED. 

cheerless  conventionalisms  of  etiquette,  but  in  their 
origin,  they  were  the  fruit  of.  truth,  and  love.  The 
rules  of  good  breeding  may  be  reduced  to  two  ;  self- 
possession  and  deference.  As  when  a  public  speaker 
loses  his  self-control,  his  own  uncertainty  is  quickly 
communicated  to  his  audience,  and  he  forfeits  his 
influence  over  his  hearers ;  so  the  same  cause 
produces  the  same  effect  in  every  lesser  audience 
that  gathers  in  our  parlors.  Society  says  to  you : 
If  I  shall  trust  you,  you  must  begin  by  trusting 
yourself.  The  man  of  the  world  will  enter  the 
palace  of  the  prince  and  the  cottage  of  the  peasant 
with  the  same  equipoise  of  manner.  If  he  respects 
himself,  there  is  no  reason  why  he  should  stand 
abashed.  Self-possession  is  essentially  self-respect. 
Deference,  too,  is  a  primary  condition  of  all  cour- 
tesy. It  teaches  us  to  concede  to  others  whatever 
we  claim  for  ourselves ;  it  leads  us  instinctively  to 
avoid  loudness,  and  self-complacency.  It  is  ex- 
pressed not  only  in  the  polished  phrase,  but  in  mien, 
attitude,  every  movement.  Self-possession  and  def- 
erence of  manner  are  both  the  outgrowth  of  moral 
qualities,  the  one  depending  on  the  consciousness 
of  personal  worth,  the  other  inspired  by  an 
unselfish  regard  for  the  well-being  of  others.  From 
these  two  it  were  possible  to  deduce  the  rules  of  a 
new  *  Chesterfield,'  which  should  be  free  from  all  the 
conceit  and  affectation  of  the  old.     Unfortunately, 


THE   PRIESTS  OF  THE  IDEAL.  83 

manners  are  no  longer  the  natural  outpouring  of 
heart-goodness.  Men  attire  themselves  in  politeness 
as  they  do  in  rich  apparel ;  they  may  be  as  rude  as 
they  please,  the  year  round,  they  know  they  can 
be  fine  on  occasion.  Moreover  in  the  home  circle, 
where  the  forms  of  courtesy  are  quite  indispensable 
to  prevent  undue  friction ;  to  send  the  light  of 
grace  and  poetry  into  a  world  of  little  cares ;  to 
fill  the  atmosphere  of  our  daily  surroundings  as 
with  the  fragrance  of  a  pervading  perfume;  they 
are  yet  most  commonly  neglected.  The  word 
manners  has  the  same  meaning  as  morals.  When 
we  shall  have  better  morals,  we  shall  have  truer 
and  sweeter  manners. 

The  Ideal  which  thus  seeks  to  interpenetrate  the 
most  ordinary  affairs  of  private  life,  stands  out  also 
in  the  market  place,  in  the  forum,  in  the  halls  of 
legislation,  and  setting  aside  the  merely  useful, 
exhorts  men  to  return  to  permanent  values.  That 
is  the  ideal  view  of  politics  which  teaches  us  to  hold 
the  idea  of  country  superior  to  the  utilities  of  party, 
to  exact  worthiness  of  the  public  servants,  to  place 
the  common  good  above  sectional  animosities  and 
jealousies.  That  is  the  ideal  view  of  commerce, 
which  impels  the  merchant,  while  seeking  pros- 
perity by  legitimate  means,  to  put  conscience  into 
his  wares  and  dealings  and  to  keep  ever  in  sight  the 
larger   purposes,  of  human  life.     That  is  the   ideal 


84  CREED  AND  DEED. 

View  of  the  professions,  which  leads  their  represent- 
atives to  subordinate  the  claims  of  ambition  and 
material  gain  to  the  enduring  interests  of  science, 
justice,  and  of  all  the  great  trusts  that  are  confided 
to  their  keeping.  And  he  therefore  shall  be  called 
a  priest  of  the  Ideal,  who  by  precept  and  example 
will  divert  us  from  the  absorbing  pursuit  of  the 
realities  and  make  plain  to  us  that  the  real  is  tran- 
sitory, while  in  the  pursuit  of  the  Ideal  alone  we 
can  find  lasting  happiness.  For  the  realities  are 
constantly  disconcerting  us  in  our  search  for  the 
better.  They  are  so  powerful,  so  insistent ;  we 
think  them  every  thing  until  we  have  proved  their 
attractions  and  find  them  nothing.  We  have  that 
only  which  we  are.  But  the  common  judgment 
holds  to  the  reverse;  we  are  only  what  we  have. 
And  so  the  turbulent  crowd  plunges  madly  into 
the  race — for  acres,  for  equipage,  for  well-stocked 
larders,  for  oflfice,  for  fame.  Good  things  are  these, 
as  scales  on  the  ladder  of  life,  but  life  is  somewhat 
more  than  acres  and  equipage  and  office  and  fame. 
Seldom  indeed  do  we  truly  live.  Often  are  we 
but  shadows  of  other  lives.  We  affect  the  fashions 
not  only  in  dress  but  also  in  thought  and  opinion. 
We  are  good  or  bad,  as  public  opinion  bids  us. 
The  state  is  ruined,  the  church  is  corrupted,  and  the 
world's  giddy  masquerade  rushes  heedlessly  on. 
Give  me  one  who  will  think  Having  and  Seem- 


THE  PRIESTS  OF  THE  IDEAL.  85 

ing  less  than  Being ;  who  will  be  content  to  be  him- 
self and  a  law  unto  himself  and  in  him  I  will  revere 
the  ideal  man.  Before  him  the  shams  and  mocker- 
ies of  existence  shall  sink  away.  He  will  look  into 
his  own  soul  and  tell  you  the  oracles  he  has  read 
there,  and  you  will  hear  and  behold  your  own  heart. 
He  will  plant  the  sign  of  the  Eternal  on  a  high 
standard  and  call  unto  a  people  that  strays  in  the 
wilderness  to  look  up  to  that  and  be  saved.  The 
old  and  the  young  will  he  instruct,  and  they  shall 
love  him,  for  his  words  will  be  an  articulate  cry  to 
the  dumb  voices  in  their  own  breasts.  This  is  the 
be-all  and  end-all  of  his  mission, — to  make  them  ac- 
quainted with  themselves.  Do  ybu  know  he  will 
say,  what  a  power  is  in  you,  what  a  light  is  hidden 
in  the  deep  recesses  of  your  nature.  Artists  are  ye 
all  to  whom  your  own  soul  is  given  to  mold  it  into 
beauty.  Happy,  happy  indeed  if  you  seek  no  other 
reward  but  the  artist's  joy  in  his  work  and  know  that 
to  be  your  glory  and  your  recompense. 

It  is  well,  that  there  should  be  priests  appointed 
to  bear  such  messages  to  us  from  time  to  time  as 
we  rest  from  our  toil ;  to  bring  us  face  to  face  with 
the  inner  life.  But  there  are  special  occasions  in 
these  passing  years  of  ours,  when  the  ideal  bearings 
of  life  come  home  to  us  with  peculiar  force  and 
when  we  require  the  priest  to  be  their  proper  inter- 
preter. 


86  CREED  AND  DEED. 

Marriage  is  one  of  them.  We  often  hear  it  said 
that  marriage  is  a  mere  legal  compact.  The  state, 
it  is  true,  has  a  vital  interest  in  protecting  the  puri- 
ty of  the  conjugal  relation  and  may  prescribe  cer- 
tain forms  to  which  its  citizens  are  bound  to  con- 
form. But  has  the  meaning  of  the  new  bond  been 
indeed  fully  expressed,  when  the  magistrate  in  the 
court  room  has  pronounced  the  young  man  and  the 
maiden  to  be  now  husband  and  wife  ?  Among  the 
ancient  Hebrews  youths  and  young  girls  were  wont 
to  meet  on  the  Day  of  Atonement,  the  most  solemn 
day  of  the  year,  the  day  of  purification  from  sin,  to 
cement  their  affections  and  plight  their  troth.  For 
marriage  itself  was  esteemed  an  act  of  purification. 
Marriage  is  the  foundation  of  all  morality.  Its  cel- 
ebration does  not  end  with  the  wedding  day :  it  is  a 
constant  celebration,  a  perpetual  intermarrying  of 
two  souls  while  life  lasts. 

Not  the  state  only,  but  humanity  also,  that  ideal 
state  of  which  we  are  all  citizens,  has  an  interest  in 
the  contract.  A  new  sanctuary  is  to  be  reared  sacred 
to  the  ineffable  mysteries  of  the  home-life ;  in  the 
home  with  all  the  tender  and  holy  associations  that 
cluster  about  it  let  it  be  dedicated.  The  supreme 
festival  of  humanity  is  marriage.  There  shall  be 
music  and  joy  and  a  white-robed  bride  with  myrtle 
wreath ;  and  solemn  words  to  express  the  solemn 
meanings  of  the  act. 


THE  PRIESTS  OF  THE  IDEAL.  8/ 

At  the  grave  also  is  the  office  of  the  priest. 
When  some  dear  friend  has  been  taken  from  us, 
when  the  whole  earth  seems  empty  for  the  loss  of 
one  and  the  pillars  of  existence  seem  broken,  he 
shall  say  to  the  grieving  heart :  Arise,  be  strong. 
He  shall  bid  your  brooding  sorrow  pause.  He 
shall  speak  of  larger  duties,  which  they  you  mourn 
have  left  you,  as  their  legacy.  Larger  duties :  this 
is  his  medicine.  You  are  not  free,  you  poor  and 
sadly  stricken  friends  to  stand  aside  in  idle  woe,  but 
you  shall  make  for  the  departed  a  memorial  in  your 
lives  and  assume  their  half  completed  tasks.  So 
the  loss,  though  loss  it  be,  will  purify  you,  and  vim 
and  vigor  be  found  in  the  consolations  of  the  Ideal. 

We  trust  that  we  have  used  the  term  priest  in 
no  narrow  restricted  sense.  It  is  not  the  hierarchies 
of  the  past  or  the  present  of  whom  we  have  spoken. 
The  priest  is  not  superior  to  his  fellow  men,  nor 
has  he  access  to  those  transcendental  regions  which 
are  closed  to  others.  His  power  is  in  this,  that  he 
speaks  what  all  feel.  And  he  shall  be  counted  an 
acceptable  teacher,  then  only,  when  the  slumbering 
echoes  within  you  waken  to  the  music  that  moves 
and  masters  him. 

There  have  been  those,  whose  lives  were  mold- 
ed on  such  a  pattern  among  the  clergy  at  all 
times,  and  it  is  this  circumstance,  that  has  attracted 
the   reverence   of  mankind   to   the   priestly   office. 


88  CREED  AND   DEED. 

Noble  men  were  they  whose  love  burst  through 
the  cramping  fetters  of  their  creeds,  apostles  of  lib- 
erty, missionaries  of  humanity. 

But  there  is  one  other  trait  necessary  to  com- 
plete the  picture.  The  priest  of  the  Ideal  must 
have  the  gift  of  tongues  and  kingly  words  to  utter 
kingly  thoughts.  In  the  philosophy  of  Alexandria  it 
was  held,  that  before  the  world  was,  the  word  was, 
and  the  word  created  a  universe  out  of  chaos  and 
the  word  was  divine.  With  that  heaven-born  ener- 
gy must  he  be  filled,  and  with  a  breath  of  that  crea- 
tive speech  must  he  inspire.  No  tawdry  eloquence 
be  his,  no  glittering  gift  of  phrase  or  fantasy,  but 
words  of  the  souFs  own  language,  words  of  the  pith 
and  core  of  truth. 

The  image  of  the  Ideal  priest  which  I  have  at- 
tempted to  draw  is  itself  an  ideal  image,  nowhere 
realized,  never  to  be  fully  attained.  But  it  is  to  it 
that  the  priests  of  the  new  age  will  strive  to  come 
near  and  nearer,  and  that  will  be  their  pride  and  their 
happiness,  if  they  can  become  in  this  sense  friends 
and  helpers  of  their  kind. 

In  the  eyes  of  the  dogmatist  they  are  strangers 
out  of  a  strange  land  of  thought.  If  you  ask  them 
for  their  pass  word,  it  is  freedom,  if  you  ask  for  their 
creed,  it  is  boundless.  The  multitude  seeking  to 
compress  the  infinite  within  the  narrow  limits  of  the 
senses,  must  needs  have  tangible  shapes  to  lay  hands 


THE   PRIESTS  OF  THE   IDEAL.  89 

on,  names  if  nothing  better.  But  the  Ideal  in  the 
highest  is  void  of  form  and  its  name  unutterable. 
We  will  ascend  on  the  wings  of  the  morning,  we 
will  let  ourselves  down  to  the  uttermost  depths  of 
the  sea,  and  know  it  there.  But  chiefly  within  our- 
selves shall  we  seek  it,  in  ourselves  is  its  shrine. 
The  time  will  come  when  single  men  shall  no  more 
be  needed  to  do  its  ministry,  when  in  the  brother- 
hood and  sisterhood  of  mankind  all  shall  be  priests 
and  priestesses  one  to  another,  for  all  their  life  shall 
be  a  song  of  praise  to  the  highest,  and  their  whole 
being  shall  be  consecrated  and  glorified  in  the  im- 
mortal service  of  deathless  Ideals. 


V. 

THE  FORM  OF  THE  NEW  IDEAL. 

A  NEW   ORDER. 

I  AM  aware  that  there  exists  a  deep  seated 
prejudice  in  the  minds  of  many  of  my  hearers 
against  what  are  called  the  forms  of  religion.  We 
have  too  long  experienced  their  limitations  and 
restraints,  not  to  be  jealous  now  of  our  hard  won 
liberties.  But  let  us  ask  ourselves  what  it  is  that 
alienates  our  sympathies  from  the  ritual  and  cere- 
monial observances  of  the  dominant  creeds  ?  Is  it 
the  forms  as  such  ?  Is  it  not  rather  the  fact  that  to 
us  they  have  become  dead  forms:  that  they  no 
longer  appeal  to  our  sentiments,  that  they  fail  to 
stir,  to  invigorate^  to  ennoble  us?  We  have  not 
cast  them  aside  lightly.  Often  have  we  entered  the 
house  of  worship,  prepared  to  be  drawn  back  into 
the  influence  of  its  once  familiar  surroundings  :  we 
beheld  again  the  great  assembly,  we  heard  the 
solemn  music,  we  listened  to  the  preacher  as  he 
strove  to  impress  upon  a  silent  multitude,  the 
lessons  of  the  higher  life.  But  in  the  prayers  we 
could  not  join,  and  the  words  to  which  the  music 


THE  FORM  OF  THE  NEW  IDEAL.       9 1 

moved  we  could  not  sing,  and  the  maxims  of  the 
preacher  were  couched  in  language,  and  enforced 
with  doctrinal  arguments  that  touched  no  chord  in 
our  hearts.  We  left  disappointed,  we  had  received 
no  help  :  if  this  were  religion,  we  felt  ourselves  more 
distant  from  religion  than  ever  before. 

On  the  banks  of  the  Euphrates  there  flourished 
of  old  an  extensive  colony  of  Jews.  A  "  Prince  of 
the  Captivity  '*  revived  the  memory  of  the  vanished 
glory  of  King  David's  house.  High  schools  were 
erected  that  afforded  a  common  centre  to  the 
scattered  members  of  the  Jewish  Faith.  In  these 
the  people  beheld  at  once  their  bond  of  connection 
with  the  past,  and  the  pledge  of  future  restoration 
to  their  patrimony.  In  the  early  part  of  the  middle 
ages,  a  prayer  for  the  health  and  prosperity  of  the 
presidents  of  the  high  schools  was  inserted  into  the 
liturgy.  Well  nigh  eight  hundred  years  have 
clasped  since  these  dignitaries,  and  the  schools 
themselves,  have  ceased  to  exist,  yet  the  prayer  is 
still  retained,  and  may  be  heard  repeated  on  any 
Sabbath  in  the  synagogues  of  the  orthodox — a 
prayer  for  the  health  of  the  Prince  and  the  high 
schools  on  the  Euphrates  that  vanished  from  the 
face  of  the  earth  eight  hundred  years  ago.  Thus 
do  religious  forms  continue  to  maintain  themselves 
long  after  their  vitality  is  perished  and  their  very 
meaning  is  forgotten.     But  if  the  prevalent  forms 


92  CREED  AND   DEED. 

have  ceased  to  satisfy  us,  can  we  therefore  dispense 
with  form  altogether  ?  If  the  house  that  has  given 
us  shelter  is  in  ruins,  shall  we  therefore  live  in  the 
woods  and  fields,  or  shall  we  not  rather  erect  a  new 
mansion  on  a  broader  foundation,  and  with  firmer 
walls  ?  It  has  been  the  bane  of  liberalism,  that  it 
was  simply  critical  and  not  constructive.  Your 
thought  must  have  not  wings  only,  but  hands  and 
feet  to  walk  and  work,  to  form  and  reform.  Lib- 
eralism must  have  its  organs,  must  enter  the  race 
with  its  rivals ;  must  not  criticise  only,  but  do 
better.  Liberalism  must  pass  the  stage  of  individ- 
ualism, must  become  the  soul  of  great  combinations. 
What  then  shall  be  the  form  adequate  to  express 
the  new  Ideal  ? 

The  form  of  any  religion  is  the  image  of  its  ideal. 
To  illustrate  what  this  means,  let  us  consider  for  a 
moment  the  origin  of  the  synagogue  and  the  church. 

The  orthodox  opinion  that  Judaism  was  revealed 
to  Moses  fourteen  hundred  years  B.  C.  is  con- 
demned by  modern  critics  of  the  Bible.  The 
following  are  some  of  the  considerations  that  have 
influenced  their  verdict.  First,  we  read  in  scripture 
that  so  late  as  the  reign  of  David,  idolatry  was  still 
rampant  among  the  Hebrews,  and  the  attempt  to 
explain  this  fact  upon  the  theory  of  a  relapse,  is 
contrary  to  the  testimony  of  the  Bible  itself. 

Secondly  :  The  name  of  Moses  is  unknown  to 


THE  FORM  OF  THE  NEW  IDEAL.       93 

the  prophets,  his  ostensible  successors,  a  circum- 
stance which  would  remain  inexplicable  if  Moses 
had  indeed  been  the  founder  of  monotheism. 

Thirdly  :  Large  portions  of  the  Pentateuch  were 
probably  not  composed  before  the  sixth  or  fifth 
century  B.  C,  that  is  to  say  about  a  thousand  years 
after  the  time  of  Moses.  The  account  they  give  of 
the  early  history  of  the  people  is  therefore  open  to 
serious  and  just  doubt.  The  prophets  were  the  real 
authors  of  monotheism.  The  priestly  code  of  the 
Pentateuch  does  not  represent  the  form  of  Judaism 
which  they  taught.  They  are  not  chargeable  with 
the  technicalities  and  dry  formalism  of  the  *^  Books 
of  Moses."  They  were  the  avowed  enemies  of  the 
priesthood  and  for  a  long  time  engaged  in  fierce 
struggles  with  the  ruling  hierarchy.  Their  doctrines 
were  in  the  essence  these :  That  there  is  a  Creator, 
that  he  is  just  and  merciful,  that  the  same  qualities 
in  man  are  the  most  acceptable  species  of  divine 
service,  that  God  directs  all  events,  whether  great  or 
small ;  and  that  it  is  the  duty  of  man  to  accept  the 
guidance  of  the  Deity,  and  to  follow  with  tireless 
diligence  the  clews  of  the  Divine  Will.  Jehovah  is  to 
be  reverenced  not  only  as  a  spiritual,  but  also  as  a 
temporal  sovereign,  and  the  prophets  are  his  minis- 
ters commissioned  to  transmit  his  decrees  to  men. 
Thus  Monotheism  found  expression  in  the  form  of 
Theocratic  government.    It  is  true  the  heathen  world 


94  CKEED  AND   DEED. 

was  not  yet  prepared  to  enter  into  so  near  a  rela- 
tionship with  the  Creator.  On  this  account  the  Jews 
were  selected  to  be  a  typical  people,  and  the  King- 
dom of  God  was  for  the  time  being  confined  to  them. 
It  is  evident  from  the  above  that  the  order  of  the 
prophets  was  the  very  mainstay  of  the  Theocratic 
fabric.  When  these  inspired  messengers  ceased  to 
appear,  the  conclusion  was  drawn  that  the  Will  of 
God  had  been  fully  revealed.  The  writings  of  the 
prophets  were  then  collected  into  sacred  books,  and 
were  regarded  as  the  constitution  of  the  divine  em- 
pire. When  Jerusalem  was  destroyed,  the  sacrifices 
were  discontinued  and  Judaism  was  purged  of  many 
heathenish  elements  which  had  been  allowed  to  mar 
the  simplicity  of  the  prophetic  religion.  The  syna- 
gogue took  the  place  of  the  Temple,  and  an  intricate 
code  of  ceremonies  was  gradually  elaborated,  intended 
to  remind  the  pious  Jew  at  all  hours  and  seasons  of 
his  duties  toward  God,  and  the  peculiar  mission  ac- 
corded to  his  people.  The  synagogue  was  a  single 
prominent  peak  in  the  range  of  the  religious  life,  a 
rallying  point  for  the  members  of  the  Jewish  com- 
munity, a  meeting  house  where  they  assembled  to 
confirm  their  allegiance  to  their  heavenly  King. 

Now  the  cardinal  point  of  difference  between 
primitive  Christianity  and  Judaism  related  to  the 
alleged  abrogation  of  the  ancient  constitution  set 
forth  in  the  old  Testament.     Christianity  said  :  The 


THE  FORM  OF  THE  NEW  IDEAL.       Qj 

Messiah  has  come ;  the  law  of  Moses  is  fulfilled  ; 
the  King  has  issued  a  new  constitution,  and  sent  his 
own  Son  to  put  it  in  force.  The  time  has  arrived 
when  the  Kingdom  of  God  need  no  longer  be  re- 
stricted to  a  single  people.  Jesus  who  perished  on 
the  cross  will  presently  return,  and  the  universal 
theocracy  will  then  be  proclaimed.  But  Jesus  did 
not  return,  his  followers  waited  long  and  patiently, 
but  they  waited  in  vain.  As  time  rolled  on,  they 
learned  to  dwell  less  upon  the  expected  Millennium 
on  earth,  and  to  defer  the  fulfilment  of  their  hopes 
to  the  life  beyond  the  grave.  In  the  interval  they 
perfected  the  organization  of  the  church.  The 
Christian  Ideal  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  that  of 
a  communion  of  all  saints  under  the  sovereignty  of 
God  through  Christ.  The  Christian  Church  is  de- 
signed to  be  an  image  of  this  Ideal,  a  communion 
of  saintly  men  on  earth,  accepting  Christ  as  their 
Master.  Christianity  aspired  to  be  the  universal 
religion  ;  there  should  be  no  barriers  any  more  be- 
tween man  and  man ;  the  exclusiveness  of  ancient 
Judaism  should  be  broken  down  ;  yet  withal  the 
barriers  of  a  new  creed  soon  arose  in  place  of  the 
old ;  the  portals  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  were 
rigidly  closed  against  all  who  refused  to  bow  to  the 
despotism  of  dogma ;  and  the  virtues  of  pagans  were 
declared  to  be  shining  vices.  The  moral  teachings 
of  Christ  are  gentle  and  kindly,  but  in  the  doctrinal 


96  CREED  AND   DEED. 

contentions  of  the  Christians  the  spirit  of  the  Master 
was  forgotten,  and  the  earth  was  deluged  with  blood. 
And  now  the  new  Ideal  differs  from  Christianity 
in  this,  that  it  seeks  to  approach  the  goal  of  a  King- 
dom of  Heaven  upon  earth,  not  by  the  miraculous 
interference  of  the  Deity,  but  by  the  laborious  exer- 
tions of  men,  and  the  slow  but  certain  progress  of 
successive  generations.  We  have  named  the  form 
of  religion  an  image  of  the  Ideal,  yet  an  image 
poor  and  incomplete  at  best,  rather  a  symbol,  a 
suggestion  of  what  can  never  be  realized.  In  the 
realm  of  art  we  do  not  find  the  soul  of  beauty  in  the 
colored  canvas  or  the  marble  statue ;  these  are 
helpful  hieroglyphics  only,  teaching  those  that  can 
read  their  mute  language  to  create  anew  the  ideal  as 
it  lived  in  the  artist's  soul,  in  the  divine  hour  of 
conception.  Thus  all  form  has  its  value  only  in 
what  it  suggests.  Our  Ideal  is  that  of  the  fellow- 
ship of  humanity  in  highest  wisdom,  highest  truth 
and  highest  love.  The  form  of  this  ideal  therefore 
can  be  none  other  than  a  new  fellowship  united  by 
the  higher  truths  and  purer  love  that  make  its  bond 
to  be  a  symbol  of  the  highest !  We  are  weary  of 
the  unreal  and  untrue  existence  we  are  forced  to 
lead  ;  we  are  weary  of  the  emptiness  of  routine, 
weary  of  the  false  coin  of  reputation  that  passes 
current  in  the  market  of  vanity  fair  ;  we  are  weary  of 
the  low  standards  by  which  actions  are  judged,  and 


THE  FORM  OF  THE  NEW  IDEAL.       97 

to  which,  to  our  dismay,  we  perceive  our  actions  in- 
sensibly conform.  But  the  pressure  of  social  influ- 
ences about  us  is  enormous,  and  no  single  arm  can 
resist  it.  We  must  needs  band  together  then,  if  we 
would  achieve  a  higher  life  ;  we  must  create  for  our- 
selves a  purer  atmosphere,  if  any  rarer  virtues  are  to 
flourish  in  our  midst ;  we  must  make  our  own  public 
opinion,  to  buoy  us  up  in  every  loftier  aspiration. 
Unions  we  want  that  will  hold,  not  religion  as  a 
duty,  but  duty  as  a  religion ;  union  to  achieve  a 
larger  morality.  Three  things  morality  demands  of 
us  as  interpreted  in  the  light  of  our  present  social 
conditions :  greater  simplicity  in  manners,  greater 
purity  in  the  passions,  greater  charity. 

The  habit  of  luxurious  living  is  eating  into  the 
vitals  of  society,  is  defiling  the  family,  and  corrupt- 
ing the  state.  Let  me  not  be  falsely  understood. 
All  that  is  luxury  which  political  economists  are 
wont  to  class  as  unproductive  consumption.  In 
this  sense,  books,  music  and  pictures  are  luxuries, 
and  who  would  be  willing  to  forego  them.  It 
becomes  us  to  the  utmost  of  our  powers  to  satisfy 
the  thirst  for  knowledge,  and  to  educate  the  sense 
of  harmony :  it  is  wise  to  expend  generously  upon 
every  means  of  culture  and  refinement.  But  this 
we  must  bear  in  mind,  that  there  should  be  a  rank 
and  a  proper  subordination  among  our  tastes  and 
desires.  Now  that  is  luxury  in  the  evil,  in  the  de- 
5 


98  CREED  AND  DEED. 

basing  sense  of  the  term,  that  we  subvert  the  natu- 
ral order  of  our  tastes,  that  we  make  the  mere  grati- 
fication of  the  animal  passions,  the  mere  pursuit  of 
wealth,  the  mere  adornment  of  our  clay,  main  objects, 
while  the  graces  of  intellect  perish,  and  the  adorn- 
ment of  the  soul  is  neglected.  Say  not,  we  will  do 
the  one,  and  not  leave  undone  the  other;  for  the 
inordinate  degree  to  which  the  meaner  passions  are 
developed,  dulls  our  sense  of  loftier  needs.  We  can- 
not serve  these  two  masters.  Frivolous  in  prosper- 
ity, we  become  helpless  in  adversity  and  perish  in- 
wardly, our  growth  stunted,  our  nobler  sympathies 
blunted,  long  before  we  are  bedded  in  our  graves. 
What  single  effort  can  achieve  a  change  ?  Fellowship, 
friends  are  needed,  and  a  public  opinion  on  behalf  of 
simplicity. 

And  purity  in  the  passions  is  needed.  An  ugly 
sore  is  here  concealed,  a  skeleton  in  the  closet  of 
which  men  speak  with  bated  breath.  Is  there  not 
such  a  thing  as  sanctity  of  the  person  !  Did  you  not 
rebel  against  human  slavery  because  you  said  it 
was  wrong  that  any  being  born  in  the  image  of 
man  should  be  the  tool  of  another  ?  And  no  argu- 
ments could  deceive  you — not  if  the  slave  offered 
himself  willingly  to  the  yoke,  and  rejoiced  in  his  bond- 
age. You  dared  not  so  sin  against  human  nature,  and 
accept  that  offer.  And  yet  New  York  has  its  slaves, 
Boston  its  slaves,  and  every  large  town  on  the  face 


THE  FORM  OF  THE  NEW  IDEAL.       99 

of  the  Wide  earth  has  this  sinful,  outcast  army  of 
slaves — tools,  whom  we  have  robbed  of  that  which 
no  human  being  has  a  right  to  barter,  the  right  to 
virtue  at  least,  if  not  to  happiness.  Call  not  that  a 
law  of  nature,  which  is  the  lawlessness  of  nature! 
Say  not,  it  has  ever  been  thus,  and  ever  shall  be ! 
From  depths  of  vice  which  the  imagination  dare  not 
recall,  humanity  has  slowly  risen  to  its  present 
level,  and  higher  and  higher  will  it  take  its  course 
when  the  conscience  is  quickened  and  true  love 
expands.  Fellowship  is  needed  to  support  this 
difficult  virtue  and  a  public  opinion  on  behalf 
of  purity. 

And  charity,  friends ;  not  that  which  we  com- 
monly called  charity;  but  charity  that  prevents 
rather  than  cures.  You  pass  through  the  lower 
quarters  of  our  city,  you  see  the  misery,  the  filth, 
the  gaunt,  grim  poverty,  the  careworn  faces,  the 
candidates  for  starvation.  Starvation !  whoever 
hears  of  it  ?  The  newspapers  rarely  speak  of  it ; 
here  or  there  an  exceptional  case.  Nay  truly,  these 
people  do  not  starve ;  they  die  of  a  cold  perhaps  ; 
the  small-pox  came  and  carried  them  off:  diphtheria 
makes  its  ravage  among  them.  Ah,  but  was  it  not 
want  that  sapped  their  strength,  and  made  them 
powerless  to  resist  disease  ?  Was  it  not  their  life  of 
pinched  pauperism  that  ripened  them  for  the  reap- 
er's scythe  ?    Then  pass  from  these  sorrowful  sights 


ICX>  CREED  AND   DEED. 

to  our  stately  Avenue.  Behold  the  gay  world  of 
fashion,  its  painted  pomp,  its  gilded  sinfulness,  its 
heartless  extravagance.  Is  not  this  an  intolerable 
contrast  ?  Shall  we  rest  quiet  under  the  talk  of  irre- 
mediable evils?  Is  it  not  true  that  something  must 
be  done,  and  can  be  done  because  it  must  ?  The 
distribution  of  wealth  they  say,  is  governed  by  eco- 
nomic laws,  and  sentiment  has  no  right  to  be  consid- 
ered in  affairs  of  business.  But  where  I  pray  you  is 
the  sentiment  of  brotherly  love  considered  as  it 
should  be  ?  Educate  the  masses  !  But  do  we  edu- 
cate them  ?  Stimulate  their  self-respect  and  teach 
them  self-help  !  But  what  large  or  effective  measures 
are  we  taking  to  this  most  desirable  end  ?  You  can- 
not help,  good  friend,  nor  I.  But  a  dozen  might  aid 
somewhat,  and  a  thousand  brave  unselfish  hearts 
knit  together  for  such  a  purpose,  who  shall  say  what 
mighty  changes  they  could  work.  Surely  fellowship 
is  needed  here,  and  a  public  opinion  on  behalf  of 
charity. 

The  *'fine  phrase,**  humanity  has  pregnant  mean- 
ings. They  stand  for  the  grandest,  the  sternest  re- 
alities of  the  times.  Purity,  charity  and  simplicity, 
these  shall  be  the  watchwords  of  a  new  fellowship, 
which  shall  practice  the  teachings  of  humanity,  that 
are  vain  as  the  empty  wind,  if  heard  only  and  ap- 
proved, but  not  made  actual  in  our  deeds. 

And  yet  some  will  smile  incredulously  and  ask, 


THE  FORM  OF  THE  IJEW  ^IJRAJ.. , .    .    .  |OI 

Where  are  the  men  and  women  prepared  to  under- 
take such  a  task  ?  It  is  true,  we  must  begin  at  the 
beginning.  From  earliest  childhood  the  young  must 
be  trained  on  a  nobler  method,  and  in  the  ethical 
school  lies  the  main  work  of  preparation.  There 
every  step  in  the  course  of  development  must  be 
carefully  considered,  vigilantly  watched  and  wisely 
directed,  to  the  one  crowning  purpose  of  ripening 
the  young  minds  and  hearts  for  that  fellowship  of 
love  and  hope. 

A  new  fellowship,  a  new  order,  I  say  boldly, 
whose  members  shall  not  be  bound  by  any  vows, 
which  shall  have  no  convents,  no  mysteries,  but 
shall  make  itself  an  exemplar  of  the  virtues  it  preach- 
es, a  form  of  the  ideal.  The  perils  that  attend  such 
organizations  are  great ;  we  will  not  attempt  to  un- 
derrate their  gravity,  but  we  believe  they  can  be 
overcome.  The  spirit  of  co-operation  lends  mighty 
momentum  to  every  cause ;  it  depends  upon  the 
cause  itself  whether  the  influence  exerted  shall  be 
for  good  or  evil.  And  there  has  been  in  history  a 
single  order  at  least  of  the  kind  which  I  describe : 
*'  The  brotherhood  of  the  common  life,'*  it  was 
called  ;  an  order  composed  of  earnest,  studious  men, 
to  whom  the  upheaval  of  Europe  in  the  sixteenth 
century  was  largely  due  ;  a  noble  brotherhood  that 
prepared  the  way  for  the  great  Reformation.  The 
Catholic  orders  are  dedicated  to  the  world  to  come ; 


I03c    e    .c    c   cccc   CREED  AND  DEED. 

the  order  of  the  Ideal  will  be  dedicated  to  the 
world  of  the  living :  to  deepen  and  broaden  the  con- 
science of  men  will  be  its  mission. 

The  propaganda  of  Liberalism  in  the  past  has 
been  weak  and  barren  of  great  results.  Strong  per- 
sonalities it  has  brought  forth  ;  around  these  soci- 
eties have  clustered  and  fallen  asunder  when  the 
personal  magnet  was  withdrawn.  What  we  need 
is  institutions  of  which  persons  shall  be  merely 
the  exponents  ;  institutions  that  must  be  grounded 
on  the  needs  of  the  present,  and  that  shall  last  by 
their  own  vitality,  to  future  ages  and  to  the  increase 
of  future  good. 

It  is  the  opening  of  the  spring.*  After  its  long 
winter  sleep,  the  earth  reawakens,  and  amid  the 
fierce  storms  of  the  Equinox  nature  ushers  in  the 
season  of  flowers  and  of  summer's  golden  plenty.  It 
is  the  day  of  Easter.  Loudly  the  bells  are  pealing 
and  joyous  songs  celebrate  in  the  legend  of  "  Christ 
risen  from  the  grave,"  the  marvel  of  the  Resurrec- 
tion. What  we  cannot  credit  of  an  individual,  is 
true  of  the  nations.  After  long  periods  of  seeming 
torpor  and  death,  humanity  ever  arises  anew  from 
the  dust,  shakes  off  its  slumbers,  and  clothes  itself 
with  fresher  vigor  and  diviner  powers. 

Let  the  hope  of  the  season  animate  us.     Let  it 

*  The  above  discourse  was  delivered  on  Easter  Sunday,  April  ist, 

1877. 


THE  FORM  OF  THE  NEW  IDEAL.  I03 

fill  our  souls  with  confidence  in  our  greater  desti- 
nies ;  let  it  teach  us  to  trust  in  them  and  to  labor 
for  them,  that  a  new  Ideal  may  vivify  the  palsied 
hearts  and  a  new  spring  tide  come,  and  a  new  Eas- 
ter dawn  arise  over  all  mankind. 


VI. 

THE    RELIGIOUS   CONSERVATISM   OF 
WOMEN. 

No  thoughtful  person  can  fail  to  appreciate  the 
enormous  influence  which  women  are  constantly  ex- 
ercising for  good  and  evil  upon  the  destinies  of  the 
world.  The  charms  and  graces  of  existence,  what- 
ever ennobles  and  embellishes  life,  we  owe  mainly 
to  them.  They  are  the  natural  guardians  of  moral- 
ity, and  from  age  to  age  the  mothers  of  households 
have  preserved  the  sacred  fire  on  the  domestic 
hearth,  whereat  every  virtue  is  kindled.  But  they 
haye  also  been  the  most  formidable  enemies  of  pro- 
gress. Their  conservatism  is  usually  of  the  most  un- 
reasoning kind,  and  the  tenacity  with  which  they 
cling  to  favorite  prejudices  is  rarely  overcome  either 
by  argument  or  appeal.  They  have  been  from  time 
immemorial  the  dupes,  the  tools,  and  the  most  effect- 
ive allies  of  priestcraft.  Their  hostility  to  the  cause 
of  Reform  has  been  so  fatal,  not  only  because  of  the 
direct  influence  of  their  actions,  but  because  of  that 
subtle  power  which  they  exert  so  skilfully  over  the 
minds  of  husbands,  brothers  and  friends,  by  the  arts 


RELIGIOUS   CONSERVATISM   OF  WOMEN.        I05 

of  remonstrance,  entreaty  and  the  contagion  of  their 
feeble  alarms.  The  question  whether  their  hostility 
can  be  turned  into  friendship,  is  one  of  momentous 
importance  for  the  leaders  of  the  Liberal  movement 
to  consider. 

In  the  following  we  shall  endeavor  to  make  plain 
that  the  subordinate  position  hitherto  assigned  to 
women,  is  the  principal  cause  that  has  impelled  them 
to  take  sides  against  religious  progress. 

Among  the  primitive  races  woman  was  reduced 
to  a  condition  of  abject  slavery.  Affection  of  the 
deeper  kind  was  unknown.  The  wife  was  robbed 
or  purchased  from  her  relations ;  was  treated  as 
a  menial  by  her  husband,  and  often  exposed  to 
the  most  brutal  abuse.  As  civilization  advanced, 
the  marriage  bond  became  more  firm,  and  com- 
mon interest  in  the  offspring  of  the  union  served 
to  create  common  sympathies.  Among  the  Greeks, 
the  ideal  of  domestic  life  was  pure  and  elevated. 
The  tales  of  Andromache,  Penelope  and  Alcestes 
ilUustrate  the  strength  of  conjugal  fidelity  and 
the  touching  pathos  of  love  that  outlasts  death. 
The  Grecian  home  was  fenced  about  with  scrupu- 
lous care  and  strictest  privacy  protected  its  inmates 
from  temptation.  It  was  the  duty  of  the  wife  to 
superintend  the  internal  economy  of  the  household, 
to  spin  and  weave,  to  direct  the  slaves  in  their 
various  occupations,  to  nurse  them  when  sick,  to 


I06  CREED   AND   DEED. 

watch  over  the  young  children,  and  chiefly  to  insure 
the  comfort  and  satisfaction  of  her  lord.  His  cares 
and  ambitions  indeed  she  hardly  shared.  She  never 
aspired  to  be  his  equal,  and  simple  obedience  to  his 
wishes  was  the  supreme  virtue  impressed  upon  her 
by  education,  and  enforced  by  habit.  Among  the 
Romans,  the  character  of  the  matron  is  described  in 
the  most  laudatory  and  reverential  terms.  Still  the 
laws  of  the  Republic  made  woman  practically  the 
bondswoman  of  man.  It  is  well-known  that  our 
English  word  family  is  derived  from  the  Latin 
where  it  originally  means  the  household  of  slaves. 
The  matron  too,  was  counted,  at  least  theoretically, 
among  these  slaves,  and  the  right  of  deciding  her 
fate  literally  for  life  or  death,  belonged  exclusively 
to  her  husband.  It  is  true  in  the  cordial  intimacy 
of  the  monogamic  bond,  the  austerity  of  usage,  and 
the  harshness  of  the  laws  are  often  tempered  by 
affection  and  mutual  respect ;  yet  we  are  aptly  re- 
minded by  a  modern  writer  on  this  subject,  that  the 
law  which  remains  a  dead  letter  to  the  refined  and 
cultivated  becomes  the  instrument  of  the  most 
heartless  oppression  in  the  hands  of  the  vulgar  and 
the  passionate. 

Among  the  Hebrews,  a  position  of  great  dignity 
and  consequence  was  sometimes  accorded  to  their 
women.  The  wives  of  Abraham,  Isaac  and  Jacob 
played  an  important  part  in  directing  the  affairs  of 


RELIGIOUS  CONSERVATISM  OF  WOMEN.        10/ 

the  Patriarchal  households.  A  woman  performed 
the  functions  of  judge  and  leader  of  armies,  women 
sat  upon  the  throne,  prophetesses  were  consulted  in 
grave  matters  of  the  State  and  of  religion ;  in  the 
absence  of  sons,  the  Mosaic  law  guarantees  to  daugh- 
ters the  right  of  succession  to  the  family  estate. 
The  later  writings  of  the  Jews  are  likewise  replete 
with  noble  sentiments  touching'  the  sanctity  of  the 
conjugal  tie.  Many  of  the  ordinances  of  the  Tal- 
mud depend  upon  women  for  their  execution,  and 
this  circumstance  alone  must  have  contributed  to 
raise  them  in  the  popular  estimation.  In  every 
marriage  contract  a  certain  sum  was  set  apart  for 
the  wife,  in  case  of  her  husband's  death  or  of  di- 
vorce. Still  the  right  of  dissolving  the  matrimonial 
connection  belonged  exclusively  to  the  husband, 
although  under  certain  conditions  he  could  be  forced 
by  the  court  to  issue  the  "  writ  of  separation.** 
However  the  wife  might  be  honored  and  loved,  she 
was  ever  regarded  as  man*s  inferior. 

The  influence  of  Christianity  upon  the  position 
of  women,  was  twofold,  and  in  opposite  directions. 
On  the  one  hand  women  had  been  among  the  first 
and  most  devoted  followers  of  Jesus ;  women  were 
largely  instrumental  in  effecting  the  conversion  of 
the  Roman  Empire,  and  in  the  list  of  martyrs,  their 
names  shine  preeminent.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
church  in  the  early  centuries  cast  an  unpardonable 


i08  CREED  AND  DEED. 

slur  on  the  marriage  relation.  We  read  of  young 
maidens  fleeing  the  society  of  dear  companions  and 
friends,  to  escape  the  temptation  of  the  affections, 
of  faithful  wives,  filled  with  inexpressible  loathing 
at  a  connection  which  they  deemed  contrary  to  the 
dictates  of  religion,  and  deserting  husbands  and 
children.  The  desire  of  love  was  poisoned  with  a 
sense  of  guilt.  The  celibacy  of  the  clergy,  finally 
•enforced  by  Pope  Hildebrand,  gave  rise  to  the  most 
shocking  irregularities.  All  this  tended  to  degrade 
the  female  sex. 

At  the  time  of  the  crusades  a  partial  revulsion 
of  feeling  took  place.  The  spirit  of  chivalry  entered^ 
the  church,  the  character  of  woman  was  transfigured, 
and  the  worship  of  the  Virgin  Mary  spread  in  con- 
sequence throughout  Europe.  A  change  in  the 
education  of  girls  was  one  of  the  results  of  the 
rise  of  Chivalry^  Music  and  poetry  became  its 
chief  elements ;  women  were  fed  on  intellectual 
sweetmeats,  but  strong  and  healthy  nourishment 
was  still  denied  them. 

In  all  the  different  stages  of  progress  which  we 
have  thus  rapidly  scanned,  the  assumption  of  man's 
superiority  to  woman  was  held  as  an  incontestible 
article  of  belief,  and  even  the  chivalric  ideal  is  only 
a  more  amiable  and  disguised  expression  of  the  same 
view. 

What  effect  the  disabilities   under  which   they 


I 


RELIGIOUS   CONSERVATISM   OF  WOMEN.       IO9 

labored  must  have  had  upon  the  religious  life  of 
women  will  readily  be  perceived.  There  are  two 
attitudes  of  mind  peculiarly  favorable  to  ortho- 
doxy ;  the  one  a  tendency  to  lean  on  authority,  the 
other  a  disposition  to  give  free  sway  to  the  feel- 
ings without  submitting  them  to  the  checks  of  rea- 
son. Now  it  is  plain  that  the  condition  of  de- 
pendence to  which  society  has  condemned  woman 
is  calculated  to  develop  these  very  qualities  to  an 
abnormal  degree.  From  early  childhood  she  re- 
ceives commands  and  is  taught  to  distrust  her  own 
judgment.  When  she  enters  the  bonds  of  matri- 
mony she  becomes  dependent  on  her  husband  for 
support,  and  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases,  his  riper 
judgment  shames  her  inexperience.  In  all  graver 
matters  she  must  perforce  defer  to  his  decision. 
Accustomed  to  rely  on  authority,  is  it  surprising 
that  in  matters  of  religion,  where  even  men  confess 
their  ignorance,  she  should  rejoice  in  the  authority 
of  the  priest,  whose  directions  relieve  her  of  doubt 
and  supply  a  ready  channel  for  her  thoughts  and  acts. 
Again  the  feelings  are  her  natural  weapons,  shall  she 
not  trust  them  !  The  stability  and  security  of  so- 
ciety are  the  conditions  on  which  her  dearest  hopes 
depend  for  their  realization.  Can  she  welcome  the 
struggles  of  innovation.  All  her  feelings  cluster 
about  the  religious  traditions  of  the  past;  all  a 
woman's  heart  pleads  for  their  maintenance. 


no  CREED  AND  DEED. 

Now  to  confine  the  feelings  of  woman  within 
their  proper  bounds,  it  is  necessary  to  give  wider 
scope,  and  a  more  generous  cultivation  to  her  in- 
tellect ;  in  brief  to  allow  her  the  same  freedom  of 
development  as  is  universally  accorded  to  man. 
Freedom  makes  strong,  and  the  confidence  of  others 
generates  an  independent  and  self-reliant  spirit  in 
ourselves.  It  is  indeed  often  urged  that  woman  is 
by  nature  the  inferior  of  man.  But  the  appeal 
to  physiology  seems  to  be  at  least  premature ;  the 
relation  of  the  size  of  the  brain  to  intellectual  ca- 
pacity being  by  no  means  clearly  determined ;  while 
the  appeal  to  history  is,  if  possible,  even  more  treach- 
erous, because  it  cites  the  evils  engendered  by  an 
ancient  and  long  continued  system  of  oppression  in 
favor  of  the  system  itself.  Counting  all  the  disad- 
vantages against  which  woman  has  been  forced  to 
contend,  and  which  have  hampered  her  every  effort 
to  elevate  her  condition,  it  is  truly  marvelous,  not 
that  she  has  done  so  little,  but  that  she  has  accom-  * 
plished  that  which  she  has.  Even  in  the  difficult 
art  of  government  she  has  earned  well  merited  dis- 
tinction, and  women  are  named  among  the  wisest 
and  most  beneficent  rulers  of  ancient  and  modern 
times.^  What  the  possibilities  of  woman's  nature 
may  be,  no  one  can  tell ;  least  of  all  she  herself. 
As  it  is  she  is  credited  with  a  superior  power  of 
*  J.  S.  Mill,  The  Subjection  of  Women,  p.  ICX). 


RELIGIOUS  CONSERVATISM  OF  WOMEN.       Ill 

intuition,  a  readier  insight  into  character,  a  more 
complete  mastery  of  details.  What  larger  powers 
now  latent  a  broader  culture  will  bring  to  light,  re- 
mains for  the  future  to  show. 

But  we  are  told  that  the  sphere  of  woman's  work 
is  in  the  home,  and  that  properly  to  perform  her 
vocation  there,  she  does  not  need  the  vigorous 
training  required  for  men.  That  woman's  mission 
ought  to  be  and  happily  is  in  the  majority  of  cases 
in  the  home,  no  one  will  gainsay.  At  the  same 
time,  we  should  not  close  our  eyes  to  patent  facts, 
facts  such  as  these  ;  that  the  number  of  women 
whose  mission  actually  does  not  lie  in  the  home,  is 
exceedingly  great ;  that  according  to  the  last  census 
of  the  United  States,  for  instance,  the  female  popu- 
lation of  the  State  of  New  York,  is  fifty-six  thousand 
in  excess  of  the  male  ;  that  well  nigh  two  millions  of 
women  in  this  country  are  engaged  in  working  for 
their  livelihood.  Is  it  not  cruel  mockery  to  say  to 
these  women  that  their  business  is  in  the  household  ? 
If  the  condition  of  things  is  such  that  they  must 
seek  outside  labor ;  if  we  permit  them  to  toil  by 
hundreds  of  thousands  in  the  fields  and  factories,  on 
what  plea  of  right  or  reason  can  we  deny  them  ad- 
mission to  the  higher  grades  of  service  ?  Is  it  not 
simple  justice  to  admit  them  to  all  the  professions, 
and  to  allow  them  the  same  advantages  in  colleges 
and  professional  schools  as  are  enjoyed  by  men  ? 


112  CREED  AND  DEED. 

We  need  not  fear  that  the  privilege  will  be  abused. 
If  women  undertake  to  engage  in  pursuits  for  which 
they  are  physically  or  mentally  unfit,  the  effect  of 
competition  will  quickly  discourage  them,  and  here 
as  elsewhere,  only  the  fittest  will  survive. 

But  aside  from  those  who  are  destined  to 
remain  single,  and  considering  the  seven  millions  of 
women,  or  more,  who  will  become  wives  and 
mothers  of  families ;  is  not  the  demand  for  higher 
education  equally  imperative  in  their  case  ?  Young 
girls  are  but  too  often  educated  to  be  the  agreeable 
companions,  rather  than  the  partners  of  their  future 
husbands.  They  receive  sufficient  instruction  to 
give  them  a  general  acquaintance  with  the  surface 
of  things,  but  not  sufficient  to  develop  what  ought 
to  be  the  chief  end  of  every  scheme  of  education — 
a  permanent  intellectual  interest  in  any  one  direction. 
Much  time  is  wasted  on  minor  accomplishments. 
At  an  age  when  the  young  girl  is  still  totally 
immature,  she  is  often  withdrawn  from  the  influence 
of  her  preceptors,  and  hurried  from  dissipation  to 
dissipation,  to  tread  the  round  of  society^s  gayeties, 
and  to  inhale  the  poisonous  atmosphere  of  flattery 
and  conventional  falsehoods.  She  enters  a  new 
world.  The  contrast  between  the  restraints  of 
school  life,  and  her  novel  sense  of  consequence  in- 
toxicates her ;  the  desire  for  pleasure  becomes  a 
passion  ;  the  books  of  useful  information,  that  never 


RELIGIOUS  <:ONSERVATISM   OF  WOMEN.       II3 

possessed  a  real  charm  for  her,  are  cast  aside,  and  the 
literature  of  the  sentiments  alone  retains  its  attrac- 
tions during  the  remainder  of  life.  It  is  not  aston- 
ishing that  those  whose  minds  are  thus  left  barren, 
should  employ  their  leisure  hours  in  frivolous  or  vi- 
cious occupations ;  that  an  exorbitant  luxury,  the  sign 
at  all  times,  of  deficient  culture,  should  have  infected 
the  community.  It  is  not  wonderful  that  when  the 
trials  of  life  approach,  these  women  grasp  wildly  at 
the  nearest  superstition,  and  prostrate  themselves 
before  any  idol  of  the  vulgar,  in  their  blind  igno- 
rance and  credulity. 

I  have  said  that  higher  education  can  alone 
make  marriage  what  it  ought  to  be,  for  it  is  not 
fancy  or  the  glow  of  passion  that  can  bind  the  hearts 
together  in  lasting  wedlock.  The  marriage  bond 
has  deeper  meanings.  Two  souls  are  united,  each 
to  be  all  in  all  to  each.  Here  shall  be  the  very  con- 
summation of  love ;  love,  that  precious  boon  that 
assuages  every  pang,  and  stills  every  grief,  and 
triumphs  over  sickness,  sorrow,  and  the  tomb. 
All  nature's  symbols  fail  to  express  its  fulness ;  it 
has  the  hope  of  the  jiawning  day ;  it  has  the  tender 
pathos  of  the  light  of  the  moon  ;  it  has  the  melody 
of  birds,  the  mystic  stillness  of  the  forest,  the  in- 
finity of  the  fathomless  sea  !  Bounteous  love,  how 
inexhaustible  are  its  treasures  !  The  fires  of  the 
passions  kindle  affection,  but  cannot  secure  it.     If 


114  CREED   AND   DEED. 

there  be  only  the  stubble  of  desire  in  the  heart,  that 
will  quickly  be  consumed ;  if  there  be  veins  of  true 
gold  there,  that  will  be  melted  and  refined.  Years 
pass,  youth  fades,  the  attendant  train  of  the  graces 
vanishes,  loveliness  falls  like  a  mask,  but  the  union 
only  becomes  firmer  and  trustier,  because  it  is  a 
union,  not  of  the  sentiments  merely,  but  of  the 
souls.  The  wife  becomes  the  true  sharer  of  her 
husband's  thoughts  ;  mutual  confidence  reigns  be- 
tween them  ;  they  grow  by  mutual  furtherance ; 
each  sees  in  each  the  mirror  of  his  nobler  self;  they 
are  the  true  complement  one  to  the  other.  Who 
does  not  know  that  such  unions  are  rare !  Common 
sympathies,  common  duties  do  indeed  create  a  tol- 
erable understanding  in  most  households  ;  but  that 
is  not  wedlock  that  men  and  women  should  jog  on 
tolerably  well  together  for  the  better  part  of  a  life- 
time. 

The  modern  mind  is  constantly  broadening; 
new  facts,  new  discoveries  are  constantly  coming  to 
light,  and  loftier  problems  engage  the  attention  of 
thinkers.  If  woman  would  not  be  utterly  left  be- 
hind in  the  race,  then  must  she  make  an  effort  to 
acquire  more  solid  knowledge,  and  educational 
reform  is  the  first  step  in  the  cause  of  woman's 
emancipation.  The  electoral  franchise,  and  what- 
ever other  measures  may  be  included  in  the  popu- 
lar phrase  of  *'  Woman's  rights  "  should  be  reserved 


RELIGIOUS  CONSERVATISM   OF  WOMEN.       II5 

for  future  discussion.  If  practicable  at  all,  they  are 
assuredly  for  the  present  of  secondary  importance. 

Permit  me  to  close  by  briefly  formulating  a  few 
points  that  seem  to  me  to  deserve  special  consid- 
eration in  this  connection. 

Woman,  like  man,  should  comprehend  the  age  in 
which  she  lives  and  the  great  questions  by  which  it 
is  agitated.  To  this  end  a  knowledge  of  history, 
and  chiefly  the  history  of  her  own  nation,  is  requi- 
site. She  should  learn  to  understand  the  principles 
of  the  language  she  speaks,  and  the  literature  in 
which  it  is  preserved,  not  from  dry  text-books,  but 
from  the  living  works  of  the  authors  themselves. 
She  should  be  able  to  pass  an  intelligent  judgment 
upon  the  political  issues  of  the  day,  that  take  up 
so  large  a  share  of  men's  conversation,  and  to  this 
end  the  rudiments  of  political  science  might  profit- 
ably be  taught  her.  She  should  possess  sufficient 
familiarity  with  the  natural  sciences  to  comprehend 
at  least  the  main  results  of  scientific  investigations, 
and  a  training  of  this  kind  would  have  the  further 
advantage  of  accustoming  her  mind  to  the  methods 
of  accurate  thinking.  She  should  gain  some  knowl- 
edge of  the  human  body  and  of  the  laws  upon  which 
its  health  depends.  Is  it  not  strange  that  this  im- 
portant branch  of  knowledge  is  so  generally  neg- 
lected in  the  training  of  those  who  are  to  be  moth- 
ers of  the  future  generation  ?     How  often  would 


Il6  CREED  AND   DEED. 

proper  attention  to  a  few  simple  rules  of  hygiene 
prevent  sickness  ;  how  often  would  more  efficient 
nursing  avert  death,  where  it  is  now  freely  allowed 
to  enter.  Then  too  the  outlines  of  pedagogy  should 
be  included  in  a  course  of  advanced  instruction  for 
women.  Mothers  are  the  educators  of  the  children, 
but  the  educators  themselves  require  to  be  edu- 
cated. 

If  the  intellect  of  girls  were  braced  and  stimula- 
ted in  this  manner,  they  would  exhibit  greater  self- 
possession  and  self-reliance  in  their  later  lives  ;  they 
would  be  less  apt  to  be  deluded  by  false  appeals  to 
the  feeHngs :  "  the  woman's  view  '*  would  be  no 
longer  proverbial  for  the  weaker  view ;  the  whole 
of  society  would  feel  the  beneficent  change,  and  the 
problem  which  we  set  out  to  discuss  in  the  begin- 
ning would  in  due  time  solve  itself. 

We  do  not  for  a  moment  apprehend  that  the  in- 
creased cultivation  of  the  intellect  would  entail  any 
loss  of  sweetness  or  of  those  gracious  qualities  that 
make  the  charm  of  womanhood.  Wherever  such  a 
result  has  been  apparently  observed,  it  is  safe  to  as- 
cribe it  to  other  causes.  Truth  and  beauty  are  far 
too  closely  akin  in  their  inmost  nature  to  exclude 
each  other.  Nor  do  we  fear  that  the  intensity  of 
moral  feeling,  for  which  women  are  distinguished, 
would  suffer  under  the  restraining  influence  of  rea- 
son's guidance.     The  moral  feelings  would  indeed 


RELIGIOUS  CONSERVATISM  OF  WOMEN.       II7 

be  purified,  elevated  and  directed  to  their  proper 
objects  by  the  judicious  use  of  reason ;  they  would 
not  therefore  be  enfeebled.  In  the  past,  the  con- 
servatism of  women  has  been  a  mighty  obstacle  in 
the  path  of  progress.  It  is  but  just  to  add  that  at 
the  dawn  of  every  great  religious  movement  which 
promised  the  moral  advancement  of  the  race,  gifted 
women,  rising  above  the  weakness  of  their  sisters, 
have  been  among  the  earliest  to  welcome  the  new 
hope  for  humanity ;  have  been  among  the  most 
ardent,  the  most  self-sacrificing  of  its  disciples. 
The  Liberal  movement  of  our  day  also  is  essentially 
a  movement  for  larger  morality,  and  more  and  more 
as  this  feature  will  be  clearly  developed,  may  it  hope 
to  gain  the  sympathies  of  brave  and  good  women 
to  its  side.  In  their  support  it  will  behold  at  once 
the  criterion  of  its  worthiness,  and  the  surest  pledge 
of  its  ultimate  triumph. 


VI  I. 

OUR  CONSOLATIONS* 

We  go  out  in  these  balmy  days  of  spring  into  the 
reviving  fields,  and  the  eye  drinks  in  with  delight 
the  fresh  and  succulent  green  of  the  meadows ;  the 
willows  begin  to  put  forth  their  verdant  foliage,  the 
brooks  purl  and  babble  of  the  new  life  that  has 
waked  in  the  forest :  be  glad,  all  nature  cries,  sum- 
mer is  coming.  And  the  freshness  of  the  season 
enters  into  our  own  hearts,  our  pulses  beat  more 
quickly,  our  step  is  more  buoyant.  We  remember 
all  that  is  joyful  in  existence  ;  the  arts  that  embel- 
lish, the  aspirations  that  ennoble,  the  affections  that 
endear  it.  Golden  the  future  lies  before  us ;  our 
very  cares  lose  their  sombre  hues  ;  like  the  golden 
islands  of  cloud  that  glow  in  the  glory  of  sunset 
skies. 

But  beneath  the  fair  semblance  of  nature  that  for 
a  time  deludes  our  senses,  a  dark  and  terrible  reality 
is  concealed.  Observe  how  pitilessly  the  destruc- 
tive elements  pursue  their  path,  the  earthquake  the 

*  A  discourse  delivered  on  Sunday,  April  29,  1877. 


OUR  CONSOLATIONS.        "  II9 

tornado,  the  epidemic.  A  few  months  ago  a  rise  of 
the  sea  swept  away  two  hundred  thousand  human 
lives  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours.  Myriads  of  sen- 
tient beings  are  daily  cast  up  in  the  summer  to  per- 
ish with  the  first  breath  of  cold.  In  the  animal 
world,  the  strong  feed  upon  the  weak,  and  the  re- 
morseless struggle  for  existence  extends  even  into 
the  sphere  of  human  activity.  At  this  very  moment 
the  whole  of  Europe  is  filled  with  anxious  alarm  in 
view  of  an  impending  war  of  conquest.  While  in- 
dustry is  paralyzed,  while  trade  is  at  a  stand-still, 
while  a  virulent  disease  generated  by  starvation  has 
broken  out  in  Silesia,  and  the  workmen  of  Lyons 
have  become  dependent  on  the  public  charity  of 
France,  the  resources  of  nations,  already  well  nigh 
exhausted,  are  drained  to  prepare  for  the  emergen- 
cies of  conflict.  With  a  secret  thrill  of  terror  we 
read  that  beds  for  the  wounded  and  millions  of 
roubles  for  hospital  appliances  are  being  voted  by 
the  municipalities  of  Russia.  Readily  the  imagina- 
tion can  picture  to  itself  what  these  ghastly  prep- 
arations mean.  It  is  true,  so  long  as  all  is  well  with 
us,  the  larger  evils  of  the  world  do  not  greatly  dis- 
turb our  equanimity.  Man  has  the  happy  faculty 
of  abstracting  his  attention  from  things  remote. 
The  accumulated  woes  of  a  continent  affect  us 
less  than  some  trifling  accident  in  our  immediate 
vicinity.     But   when   the   messengers   of  evil  have 


I20  CREED  AND   DEED. 

cast  their  shadows  across  our  threshold,  when 
calamity  has  laid  its  heavy  hand  upon  our  shoulder, 
it  is  then  that  the  general  unsatisfactoriness  of  life 
recurs  to  us  with  added  force  in  view  of  our  own  ex- 
perience ;  the  splendor  fades  from  the  surrounding 
scene ;  every  dark  stain  takes  on  a  deeper  blackness, 
and  the  gloom  that  comes  from  within  fills  and  ob- 
scures the  entire  field  of  our  vision.  We  have  sus- 
tained financial  loss,  perhaps  we  are  harrowed  by 
domestic  discord,  we  are  suddenly  stricken  in  the 
midst  of  health,  and  drag  on  long  years  as  hopeless 
invalids,  or  worse  still,  we  stand  at  the  bedside  of 
some  dear  friend  or  kinsman,  see  him  stretched  upon 
the  rack  of  pain,  and  can  do  nothing  to  alleviate  his 
sufferings ;  we  see  the  end  slowly  nearing ;  but  oh, 
the  weary  waiting,  the  patient's  agonizing  cry  for 
death,  the  cruel  struggle  that  must  still  intervene. 
And  when  at  last,  it  is  over,  and  we  have  laid  him 
away  under  the  sod,  and  returned  to  our  desolate 
homes,  what  hope  remains !  Whither  now,  we 
ask,  shall  we  turn  for  consolation  ?  Is  there  no  out- 
look from  this  night  of  trouble  ?  Is  there  no  winged 
thought,  that  will  bear  us  upward  from  out  the 
depths ;  is  there  no  solace  to  assuage  our  pangs? 

Among  the  means  of  consolation  commonly  rec- 
ommended the  doctrine  of  Immortality  seems  to  be 
regarded  as  the  most  appropriate  and  effective.  It  is 
needless  to  lament ;  the  deceased  has  entered  a  bet- 


OUR   CONSOLATIONS.  121 

ter  life.  Yet  a  little  and  you  will  join  him  to  be  no 
more  parted.  Nor  can  we  deny  that  to  those  who 
cordially  entertain  it,  the  belief  in  the  souFs  immortal 
continuance  becomes  a  source  of  pure  and  inexpres- 
sibly tender  satisfaction.  But  with  a  certain  class  of 
minds — and  their  number,  I  believe,  is  on  the  increase 
— the  consoling  influence  of  this  doctrine  is  marred 
by  the  fatal  uncertainty  in  which  the  whole  question 
is  involved,  and  which  no  efforts  of  man  have  ever 
yet,  nor  ever  will,  avail  to  remove.  Christianity  in- 
deed claims  to  have  settled  the  point.  The  Deity 
himself,  it  avers,  intervened  by  direct  revelation  from 
on  high,  to  set  our  doubts  at  rest,  and  Jesus  when  he 
arose  on  the  third  day  forever  deprived  the  grave  of 
its  sting  and  took  away  our  fears  of  the  tomb.  But 
to  those  who  read  the  books  of  revelations  with  unbi- 
ased mind,  the  fact  of  their  human  authorship  be- 
comes sadly  apparent,  and  the  resurrection  itself  is 
as  difficult  to  prove  as  the  doctrine  which  it  is 
designed  to  substantiate. 

In  modern  times  spiritualism  has  likewise  endeav- 
ored to  demonstrate  to  the  senses  the  existence  of 
a  world  of  souls  beyond  our  own.  But  the  phenom- 
ena on  which  it  lies  are  in  part  disputed,  in  part  the 
interpretation  put  upon  them,  must,  to  say  the  least, 
be  regarded  as  premature. 

Moreover  we  should  remember  that  even  if  by 
some  unknown  means  the  fact  of  immortality  could 
6 


122  CREED   AND   DEED. 

be  established,  the  question  of  our  re-union  with 
friends  in  the  hereafter,  in  which  alone  the  heart  of 
the  mourner  is  interested,  would  still  remain  an  open 
one  and  might  be  answered  in  the  negative.  The 
belief  in  immortality  has  been  held  in  this  way  by 
some  of  the  greatest  intellects  of  the  human  race, 
Spinoza  among  the  rest.  If  we  knew  that  we  shall 
continue  to  live,  we  should  not  therefore  know  how 
we  shall  continue  to  live.  Perhaps  it  might  prove 
that  all  our  previous  connections  would  be  severed ; 
and  who  can  tell  what  new  phases  of  existence, 
what  endless  metamorphoses  might  await  us  among 
the  infinite  possibilities  of  Eternity. 

So  deep  seated  is  the  sense  of  uncertainty  con- 
cerning our  fate  beyond  the  tomb,  that  no  religion, 
however  great  the  control  which  it  exerted  over  men, 
has  ever  been  able  to  banish  it  entirely  from  their 
hearts.  The  most  ardent  Christian  is  hardly  less  anx- 
ious than  the  infidel  to  retain  those  who  are  dear  to 
him  in  life.  He  prays  as  fervently  for  their  health 
as  though  their  present  state  were  the  sum  total  of 
their  existence.  And  yet  he  should  rather  hail  the 
day  of  death  as  a  day  of  thanksgiving,  and  rejoice 
that  those  whom  he  loves  have  been  translated  to 
a  sphere  every  way  so  much  more  desirable  than 
our  own.  No,  the  natural  feeling  cannot  be  sup- 
pressed, loss  is  felt  to  be  loss,  and  death  remains 
death.       No   hope  of  a  happier   condition  in   the 


OUR  CONSOLATIONS.  1 23 

world  to  come,  no  confidence  in  the  promises  and 
prophesies  of  faith,  can  efface  the  sense  of  present 
bereavement,  and  as  we  all  alike  feel  it,  so  are  we 
all,  believers  and  unbelievers,  interested  in  seeking 
the  means  of  its  present  relief. 

Some  of  the  most  fervid,  religious  natures  of  the 
past  endeavored  to  escape  the  sorrows  of  the 
world  by  having  recourse  to  the  cruel  remedy  of 
asceticism.  The  ascetic  ponders  the  origin  of  suf- 
fering :  he  sees  that  the  desire  for  pleasure  is  the 
cause  of  pain.  Were  we  not  eager  to  possess  we 
should  not  regret  to  lose.  He  cuts  the  gordian  knot 
saying,  abjure  desire  !  When  you  cease  to  want,  you 
shall  no  longer  be  bruised.  There  are  certain  wants 
inherent  in  the  body — the  want  of  food,  drink,  sleep  ; 
the  heart  has  its  needs — friendship,  sympathy ;  the 
mind — knowledge,  culture.  All  these  should  be 
subdued.  We  should  eat  and  drink  the  coarsest  in 
quality  and  the  least  possible  in  quantity  ;  we 
should  avoid  the  attachments  of  love ;  we  should  be 
poor  in  spirit,  and  despise  wisdom.  The  ascetic 
ideal  took  firm  root  in  Christianity  at  an  early  period 
of  its  history.  The  extravagance  of  the  Egyptian 
anchorites  is  well  known.  The  ''pillar  saint,"  St. 
Simeon,  who  is  said  to  have  passed  some  thirty  years 
of  his  life  on  the  summit  of  a  column  twenty  yards 
in  height,  taking  only  the  scantiest  nourishment, 
eschewing  ablutions,  covered  with   filth  and  sores. 


124  CREED   AND   DEED. 

was  worshipped  as  a  holy  man  by  the  multitude  and 
his  example  was  followed  by  others,  though  with 
less  rigor,  during  a  period  of  nearly  a  thousand  years. 
Among  the  Hindoos,  too,  the  ascetic  ideal  acquired 
a  baneful  ascendency.  We  can  hardly  credit  the 
tales  that  have  come  to  us  concerning  the  insane 
fanaticism  which  raged  amongst  this  people.  To 
what  tortures  of  body  and  soul  did  they  subject 
themselves,  what  cruel  ordeals  did  they  invent  in 
order  to  steel  themselves  against  the  inevitable  suf- 
ferings of  life.  It  was  their  beau-ideal  to  achieve  a 
state  bordering  upon  absolute  unconsciousness,  in 
which  the  power  of  sensation  might  be  entirely 
blunted,  and  even  the  existence  of  the  physical  man 
be  forgotten. 

This,  indeed,  is  a  capital  remedy,  a  species  of 
heroic  treatment  that  attains  its  end.  Man 
becomes  passive  in  pain,  incapable  of  sorrow, 
unmoved  by  any  loss.  But  with  the  pains,  the 
joys  of  existence  have  likewise  fled.  The  human 
being  walks  as  a  shadow  among  shadows,  a  soulless 
substance,  the  wretched  semblance  of  his  former 
self.  Who  would  not  rather  bear  the  heaviest  ills 
that  flesh  is  heir  to,  than  purchase  his  release  at 
such  a  cost. 

And  now  in  setting  forth  our  own  view  of  this 
mighty  problem  of  human  sorrow,  let  us  bear  in 
mind  that  our  private  hardships  and  those  general 


OUR   CONSOLATIONS.  1 25 

evils  which  we  see  enacted  on  a  scale  of  such  ap- 
palling magnitude  in  the  world  around  us,  must  be 
considered  together,  for  the  same  cause  constantly 
gives  rise  to  both.  It  is  of  the  utmost  importance 
that  we  should  weigh  well  what  we  have  a  right  to 
expect,  and  ponder  the  conditions  on  which 
humanity  holds  the  tenure  of  its  existence.  Per- 
haps our  deepest  disappointments  are  often  due 
to  the  fact  that  we  ask  more  than  we  have  any 
legitimate  title  to  receive,  and  judge  the  scheme  of 
the  Universe  according  to  false  analogies  and  pre- 
conceived notions  which  the  constitution  of  things 
does  not  bear  out.  We  are  subject  to  two  laws, 
the  one  the  law  of  nature,  the  other  that  of  mor- 
ality :  the  two  clash  and  collide,  and  a  conflict 
ensues.  Theology  labors  to  show  that  this  con- 
flict is  apparent  rather  than  real,  to  admit  it  would 
seem  to  impugn  the  justice  of  the  Deity.  Thus  we 
read  in  the  Old  Testament  that  when  the  sufferer 
Job  protested  his  innocence,  his  friends  assailed 
his  veracity,  and  persisted  in  holding  the  bare  fact 
of  his  misfortune  as  unimpeachable  evidence  of  his 
sinfulness.  And  thus  the  Psalmist  assures  us,  that 
he  has  grown  old  and  never  seen  the  righteous  man 
in  want.  The  experience  of  the  Psalmist  must  have 
been  limited  indeed !  The  conflict  exists,  however 
it  may  be  denied.  Nature  is  indifferent  to  morality, 
goes  on  regardless.     The  great  laws  that  rule  the 


126  CREED   AND   DEED. 

Kosmos,  act  upon  this  planet  of  ours,  nor  heed  our 
presence.  If  we  chance  to  stand  in  the  way,  they 
grind  us  to  pieces  with  grim  unconcern :  the  earth 
opens,  the  volcano  sends  forth  its  smoldering  fires, 
populous  cities  are  overwhelmed,  locusts  devastate 
the  country ;  they  do  not  pause  before  the  field  of 
the  righteous;  they  have  no  moral  preference. 
The  seeds  of  disease  also  are  scattered  broadcast 
over  the  land,  and  the  best,  often  those  whom  we 
can  least  afford  to  lose,  are  taken.  These  are  the 
hostile  forces,  and  against  these  man  must  contend. 
To  them  he  opposes  his  intellect,  his  moral  energy ; 
he  seeks  to  adapt  himself  to  his  place  in  the 
universe.  He  discovers  that  these  foes  are  blind, 
not  necessarily  his  enemies,  if  he  can  trace  their 
path.  If  he  can  read  the  secret  of  their  working, 
they  cease  to  threaten  hirn  ;  he  holds  them  with 
the  reins  of  intellect,  and  binds  them  to  his  chariot, 
and  behold  like  swift  steeds  they  carry  him  whither- 
soever it  pleases  him,  and  on,  on,  they  draw  his  car 
of  progress.  In  this  manner  the  sway  of  man's 
genius  is  extended  on  earth.  Already  life  is  far 
easier  than  it  was  among  our  ancestors  ten  thousand 
years  ago ;  the  epidemic  is  checked  by  wise 
sanitary  regulations,  greater  justice  prevails  in  gov- 
ernment, and  the  means  of  happiness  are  extended 
over  wider  areas  of  the  population.  What  we  thus 
behold  realized   on  a  partial  scale,  we  conceive  in 


OUR  CONSOLATIONS.  \2^ 

our  visions  of  the  future  to  be  indefinitely  prolonged, 
the  course  of  development  leading  to  higher  and 
higher  planes,  healthier  conditions,  wiser  laws, 
nobler  manners.  The  moral  order  will  thus  increase 
on  earth.  The  moral  order  never  is,  but  is  ever 
becoming.  It  grows  with  our  growth,  and  to  bring 
on  the  triumph  of  intellect  over  mechanism,  of 
responsible  morality  over  irresponsible  force,  is  our 
mission.  The  purpose  of  man's  life  is  not  happi- 
ness, but  worthiness.  Happiness  may  come  as  an 
accessory,  we  dare  never  make  it  an  end.  There  is 
that  striving  for  the  perfect  within  us :  in  it  we  live, 
by  it  we  are  exalted  above  the  clod ;  it  is  the  one 
and  only  solace  that  never  fails  us,  and  the  experi- 
ence of  progress  in  the  past,  the  hope  of  greater  pro- 
gress in  the  future,  is  the  redeeming  feature  of  life. 
But  the  condition  of  all  progress  is  experience ;  we 
must  go  wrong  a  thousand  times  before  we  find  the 
right.  We  struggle,  and  grope  and  injure  ourselves 
until  we  learn  the  uses  of  things.  Pain  therefore  be- 
comes a  necessity,  but  it  acquires  in  this  view  a  new 
and  nobler  meaning,  for  it  is  the  price  humanity  pays 
for  an  invaluable  good.  Every  painful  sickness, 
every  premature  death,  becomes  the  means  of 
averting  sickness  and  death  hereafter.  Every  form 
of  violence,  every  social  wrong,  every  inmost  trib- 
ulation, is  the  result  of  general  causes  and  becomes 
a  goad  in  the  sides  of  mankind,  pressing  them  on  to 


128  CREED   AND   DEED. 

correct  the  hoary  abuses  it  has  tolerated,  the 
vicious  principles  of  government,  education  and 
economy  to  which  it  has  conformed.  Wide  as  the 
earth  is  the  martyrdom  of  man,  but  the  cry  of 
the  martyr  is  the  creaking  of  the  wheel  which 
warns  us  that  the  great  car  of  human  progress  is  in 
motion. 

If  we  keep  duly  in  mind  the  position  which 
the  human  race  occupies  over  against  nature,  we 
shall  not  accuse  fate.  Fate  is  our  adversary;  we 
must  wrestle  with  it,  we  are  here  to  establish  the 
law  of  our  own  higher  nature  in  defiance  of  fate. 
And  this  is  the  prerogative  of  man,  that  he  need  not 
blindly  follow  the  law  of  his  being,  but  that  he  is 
himself  the  author  of  the  moral  law,  and  creates  it 
even  in  acting  it  out.  We  are  all  soldiers  in  the 
great  army  of  mankind,  battling  in  the  cause  of 
moral  freedom ;  some  to  fight  as  captains,  others  to 
do  valiant  service  in  the  ranks  ;  some  to  shout  the 
paean  of  victory,  others  to  fall  on  the  battle  field  or 
to  retire  wounded  or  crippled  to  the  rear.  But  as 
in  every  battle  so  too  in  this,  the  fallen  and  the 
wounded  have  a  share  in  the  victory ;  by  their 
sufferings  have  they  helped,  and  the  greenest  wreath 
belongs  to  them. 

It  is  strictly  in  accordance  with  the  view  we 
have  taken,  that  we  behold  in  the  performance  of 
duty  the  solace  of  affliction.     All  of  us  have  felt. 


OUR  CONSOLATIONS.  I29 

after  some  great  bereavement,  the  beneficent  in- 
fluence of  mere  labor :  even  the  mechanical  part  of 
duty  affords  us  some  relief  The  knowledge  that 
something  must  be  done  calls  us  away  from  brood- 
ing over  our  griefs,  and  forces  us  back  into  the 
active  currents  of  life.  The  cultivation  of  the  in- 
tellect also  is  a  part  of  man*s  duty,  and  stands  us  in 
great  stead  in  times  of  trouble.  We  should  seek  to 
accustom  the  mind  to  the  aspect  of  large  interests. 
In  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  there  is  nothing  of  the 
personal :  into  the  calm  and  silent  realm  of  thought 
the  feelings  can  gain  no  entrance.  There,  after  the 
first  spasms  of  emotion  have  subsided,  we  may  find 
at  least  a  temporary  relief, — there  for  hours  we  drink 
in  a  happy  oblivion.  But  more  is  needed,  and  the 
discharge  of  the  duties  of  the  heart  alone  can  really 
console  the  heart.  There  is  this  secret  in  the 
affections,  that  they  constantly  add  to  our  strength. 
Constant  communion  between  allied  natures  leads 
to  their  mutual  enrichment  by  all  that  is  best  in 
either.  But  when  the  rude  hand  of  death  interferes, 
we  are  as  a  stream  whose  outlet  is  barred,  as  a 
creeper  whose  stay  is  broken.  A  larger  channel  is 
needed  then  into  which  the  waters  of  our  love  may 
flow,  a  firm  support,  to  which  the  tattered  tendrils  of 
affection  may  cling  anew.  True,  the  close  and  inti- 
mate bond  that  unites  friend  to  friend  can  have  no 
substitute,  but  the  warm  love  that  obtains  in  the 
6- 


I30  CREED  AND   DEED. 

personal  relations  may  be  expanded  into  a  wider 
and  impersonal  love,  which,  if  less  intense,  is 
broader,  which,  if  less  fond,  is  even  more  en- 
nobling. The  love  you  can  no  longer  lavish  on 
one,  the  many  call  for  it.  The  cherishing  care  you 
can  no  longer  bestow  upon  your  child,  the  neglected 
children  of  the  poor  appeal  for  it;  the  sympathy 
you  can  no  longer  give  your  friend,  the  friendless 
cry  for  it.  In  alleviating  the  misery  of  others,  your 
own  misery  will  be  alleviated,  and  in  healing  you 
will  find  that  there  is  cure. 

This  remedy  is  suggested  in  an  ancient  legend 
related  of  the  Buddha,  the  great  Hindoo  reformer, 
who  was  so  deeply  affected  by  the  ills  of  human 
life.^  There  came  to  him  one  day  a  woman  who 
had  lost  her  only  child.  She  was  wild  with  grief, 
and  with  disconsolate  sobs  and  cries  called  frantic- 
ally on  the  prophet  to  give  back  her  little  one  to 
life.  The  Buddha  gazed  on  her  long  and  with  that 
tender  sympathy  which  drew  all  hearts  to  him,  said, 
**  Go  my  daughter,  get  me  a  mustard  seed  from  a 
house  into  which  death  has  never  entered,  and  I 
will  do  as  thou  hast  bidden  me."  And  the  woman 
took  up  the  dead  child,  and  began  her  search. 
From  house  to  house  she  went  saying,  *^  Give  me  a 
mustard   seed,  kind  folk,   a  mustard   seed   for    the 

*  We  have  ventured  to  offer  this  interpretation  of  the  legend  in 
an  article  published  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly  for  June,  1875,  from 
which  the  account  in  the  text  is  taken. 


OUR  CONSOLATIONS.  I3I 

prophet  to  revive  my  child."  And  they  gave  her 
what  she  asked,  and  when  she  had  taken  it,  she 
inquired  whether  all  were  gathered  about  the 
hearth,  father  and  mother  and  the  children  ;  but  the 
people  would  shake  their  heads  and  sigh,  and  she 
would  turn  on  her  way  sadder  than  before.  And 
far  as  she  wandered,  in  town  and  village,  in  the 
crowded  thoroughfare,  and  by  the  lonely  road  side, 
she  found  not  the  house  into  which  death  had 
never  entered.  Then  gradually  as  she  went  on,  the 
meaning  of  the  Buddha's  words  dawned  upon  her 
mind  ;  gradually  as  she  learned  to  know  the  great 
sorrow  of  the  race  every  where  around  her,  her 
heart  went  out  in  great  yearning  sympathy  to  the 
companions  of  her  sorrow ;  the  tears  of  her  pity 
fell  free  and  fast,  and  the  passion  of  her  grief  was 
merged  in  compassion.  She  had  learned  the  great 
lesson  of  renunciation ;  had  learned  to  sink  self  in 
the  unselfish. 

From  the  depths  of  the  heart  the  stream  of 
grief  rises  resistless,  the  dams  and  dykes  of  reason 
are  impotent  to  stay  its  course.  Prepare  a  channel 
therefore  to  lead  out  its  swelling  tide  away  to  the 
great  ocean  of  mankind's  sorrow,  where  in  com- 
mingling it  shall  be  absorbed. 

The  consolations  of  the  Ideal  are  vigorous  :  they 
do  not  encourage  idle  sentiment :  they  recommend 
to   the  sufferer,  action.     The  loss  indeed  as  we  set 


132  CREED  AND   DEED. 

out  by  saying,  remains  a  loss,  and  no  preaching  or 
teaching  can  ever  make  it  otherwise.  The  question 
is,  whether  it  shall  weaken  and  embitter  us,  or 
become  the  very  purification  of  our  souls,  and  lead 
us  to  grander  and  diviner  deeds,  lead  us  to  raise 
unto  the  dead  we  mourn,  a  monument  in  our  lives 
that  shall  be  better  than  any  pillared  chapel  or 
storied  marble  tomb. 

Thus  from  whatever  point  we  start,  we  arrive  at 
the  same  conclusion  still :  "  not  in  the  creed  but  in 
the  deed!"  In  the  deed  is  the  pledge  of  the 
sacredness  of  life  ;  in  the  deed  is  the  reward  of  our 
activities  in  health ;  in  the  deed  our  solace,  and  our 
salvation  even  in  the  abysmal  gulfs  of  woe.  In 
hours  of  great  sorrow  we  turn  in  vain  to  nature  for 
an  inspiring  thought.  We  question  the  sleepless 
stars  ;  they  are  cold  and  distant :  the  winds  blow, 
the  rivers  run  their  course,  the  seasons  change  ;  they 
are  careless  of  man.  In  the  world  of  men  alone  do 
we  find  an  answering  echo  to  the  heart's  needs. 
Let  us  grasp  hands  cordially  and  look  into  each 
other's  eyes  for  sympathy,  while  we  travel  together 
on  our  road  toward  the  unknown  goal.  To  help 
one  another  is  our  wisdom,  and  our  renown,  and 
our  sweet  consolation. 


VIII. 

SPINOZA. 

Two  centuries  have  elapsed  since  Spinoza 
passed  from  the  world  of  the  living,  and  to-day  that 
high  and  tranquil  spirit  walks  the  earth  once  more 
and  men  make  wide  their  hearts  to  receive  his 
memory  and  his  name.  The  great  men  whom  the 
past  has  wronged,  receive  at  last  time's  tardy 
recompense. 

On  the  day  that  Columbus  set  sail  for  America, 
the  Jews  left  Spain  in  exile.  Many  of  their  number, 
however,  who  could  not  find  it  in  their  hearts  to 
bid  adieu  to  their  native  land,  remained  and  simu- 
lated the  practice  of  devout  Catholics  while  in 
secret  they  preserved  their  allegiance  to  their 
ancestral  religion.  They  occupied  high  places  in 
the  church  and  state,  and  monks,  prelates  and 
bishops  were  counted  in  their  ranks.  Ere  long  the 
suspicions  of  the  Inquisition  were  alarmed  against 
these  covert  heretics,  and  their  position  became 
daily  more  perilous  and  insecure.  Some  were  con- 
demned to  the  stake,  others  pined  for  years  in  dun- 
geons;  those   that   could    find   the   means,  escaped 


134  CREED   AND   DEED. 

and  sought  in  distant  lands  security  and  repose 
from  persecution.  It  was  especially  the  Free  States 
of  Holland  whose  enlightened  policy  offered  an 
asylum  to  the  fugitives,  and  thither  accordingly  in 
great  numbers  they  directed  their  steps.  Their 
frugality,  their  thrift  and  enterprise,  contributed 
not  a  little  to  build  up  the  prosperity  of  the  Dutch 
metropolis. 

In  the  opening  of  the  seventeenth  century  a 
considerable  congregation  of  the  Jews  had  collected 
in  the  city  of  Amsterdam.  There  in  the  year 
1632,  the  child  of  Spanish  emigrants,  Benedict  Spin- 
oza was  born.  Of  his  childhood  we  know  little. 
At  an  early  age  he  was  initiated  into  the  mysteries 
of  Hebrew  lore,  was  instructed  in  the  Hebrew 
grammar,  and  learned  to  read  and  translate  the 
various  writings  of  the  Old  Testament.  He  was 
taught  to  thread  his  way  through  the  mazes  of  the 
Talmud,  and  its  subtle  discussions  proved  an  admir- 
able discipline  in  preparing  him  for  the  favorite  pur- 
suits of  his  after  years.  Lastly  he  was  introduced 
to  the  study  of  the  Jewish  philosophers,  among 
whom  Maimonides  and  Ibn  Ezra  engaged  his  especial 
attention.  Maimonides,  one  of  the  most  profound 
thinkers  of  the  middle  ages,  strove  to  harmonize  the 
teachings  of  Aristotle  with  the  doctrines  of  the 
Bible.  Ibn  Ezra  on  the  other  hand,  was  a  confirmed 
sceptic.     In  his  biblical  commentaries  he  anticipates 


SPINOZA.  135 

many  noteworthy  discoveries  of  modern  criticism, 
and  his  orthodoxy  in  other  respects  also  is  more 
than  doubtful. 

In  all  these  different  branches  of  theology  the 
young  Spinoza  made  rapid  progress  and  soon  gained 
astonishing  proficiency.  He  was  the  favorite  of  his 
instructors,  and  they  predicted  that  he  would  one 
day  become  a  shining  light  of  the  synagogue.  Not 
content,  however,  with  this  course  of  study,  Spinoza 
addressed  himself  to  the  study  of  Roman  Hterature, 
and  with  the  assistance  of  a  certain  Dr.  Van  den 
Ende,  who  had  at  that  time  gained  considerable 
repute  as  a  teacher  of  liberal  learning,  he  soon 
became  an  accomplished  Latin  scholar.  He  also 
took  up  the  study  of  Geometry  and  of  Physics,  and 
acquired  considerable  skill  in  the  art  of  sketching. 
His  mind  being  thus  stored  with  various  knowledge, 
he  was  prepared  to  enter  the  vast  realm  of  meta- 
physical speculation  and  here  the  works  of  Rene 
Descartes,  preeminently  engaged  his  attention.  Des- 
cartes, whose  motto,  De  omnibus  dubitandum  est, 
sufficiently  indicates  the  revolutionary  character  of 
his  teachings,  was  the  leader  of  the  new  school  of 
thought  on  the  continent.  His  influence  proved 
decisive  in  shaping  the  career  of  Spinoza.  Bruno 
also  deserves  mention  among  those  who  determined 
the  bias  of  Spinoza's  mind.  I  mean  that  Bruno  who 
was  among   the  first  followers   of  Copernicus,  who 


136  CREED   AND   DEED. 

proclaimed  the  doctrine  of  the  infinity  of  worlds 
and  who  himself  inculcated  a  species  of  pantheism 
for  which  he  paid  the  last  penalty  at  Rome  in  the 
year  1600,  thirty-two  years  before  Spinoza  was  born. 
By  all  these  influences  the  mind  of  the  young 
philosopher  was  widened  beyond  the  sphere  of  his 
early  education.  In  the  pursuit  of  truth  he  sought 
the  society  of  congenial  minds,  and  found  among  the 
cultivated  Christians  of  his  day  that  intellectual 
sympathy  of  which  he  stood  in  need.  From  the 
high  plane  of  thought  which  he  had  now  reached,  the 
rites  and  practices  of  external  religion  dwindled  in 
importance,  and  the  questions  of  creed  for  which  the 
mass  of  men  contend  appeared  little  and  insignif- 
icant. His  absence  from  the  worship  of  the  syn- 
agogue now  began  to  be  remarked  ;  it  was  rumored 
that  he  neglected  the  prescribed  fasts  and  he  was 
openly  charged  with  partaking  of  forbidden  food. 
At  first  he  was  treated  with  great  leniency.  So 
high  was  his  credit  with  the  Rabbis,  so  impressed 
were  they  with  his  singular  abilities,  that  they  strove 
by  every  gentle  means  to  win  him  back  to  his  alle- 
giance. They  admonished  him,  held  out  prospects 
of  honor  and  emolument  ;  it  is  even  stated  that  at 
last  in  despair  of  reclaiming  him  they  offered  an 
annual  pension  of  a  thousand  florins  to  purchase  his 
silence.  Spinoza  himself  was  keenly  alive  to  the 
gravity  of  his  position.      It  had  been  fondly  hoped 


SPINOZA.  137 

that  he  would  shed  new  lustre  upon  the  religion  of 
Israel.  He  would  be  accused  of  vile  ingratitude  for 
deserting  his  people.  He  foresaw  the  inevitable 
rupture  that  would  cut  him  off  forever  from  friends 
and  kinsmen,  from  the  opportunities  of  wealth  and 
honorable  position,  and  deliver  him  over  to  priva- 
tion and  poverty.  He  himself  tells  us  in  the  intro- 
duction of  a  work  which  had  long  been  forgotten 
and  has  been  only  recently  rescued  from  oblivion, 
that  he  saw  riches  and  honor  and  all  those  goods 
for  which  men  strive,  placed  before  him  on  the  one 
hand,  and  a  sincere  life  serenely  true  to  itself  on 
the  other;  but  that  the  former  seemed  veritable 
shams  and  evils  compared  with  that  one  great  good. 
Nay,  he  said,  though  he  might  never  reach  the 
absolute  truth,  he  felt  as  one  sick  unto  death,  who 
knows  but  one  balm  that  can  help  him  and  who 
must  needs  search  for  that  balm  whereby  perchance 
he  may  be  healed. 

Great  was  the  commotion  stirred  up  against  him 
in  the  Jewish  community  of  Amsterdam.  One 
evening  a  fanatic  assaulted  him  on  the  street  and 
attempted  his  life.  The  stroke  of  the  assassin's 
dagger  was  successfully  parried.  But  Spinoza  felt 
that  the  city  was  now  no  longer  safe  for  him  to 
dwell  in.  He  fled  and  for  some  time  frequently 
changed  his  place  of  residence,  until  at  last  he 
settled  at  the   Hague   where  he  remained  until  his 


138  CREED   AND   DEED. 

death.  In  the  mean  time  the  lenient  spirit  of  the 
Jewish  leaders  had  changed  into  stern,  uncompro- 
mising rigor.  Observe  now  how  persecution  breeds 
persecution.  It  had  been  the  pride  of  Judaism 
from  of  old  that  within  its  pale  the  practice  of 
religion  was  deemed  more  essential  than  the  theory ; 
that  it  permitted  the  widest  divergence  in  matters 
of  belief,  and  granted  ample  tolerance  to  all.  But 
these  Jews  of  Amsterdam,  fresh  from  the  dungeons 
and  the  torture  chambers  of  the  Inquisition,  had 
themselves  imbibed  the  dark  spirit  of  their  oppress- 
ors. Uriel  d'Acosta  they  had  driven  to  the  verge 
of  insanity  and  to  a  tragic  death  by  their  cruel  big- 
otry. And  now  the  same  m.ethods  were  employed 
against  a  wiser  and  greater  and  purer  man,  far  than  he. 

On  the  27th  of  July,  1656,  in  the  synagogue  of 
Amsterdam,  the  sacred  ark,  containing  the  scrolls  of 
the  law,  being  kept  open  during  the  ceremony,  the 
edict  of  excommunication  was  solemnly  promul- 
gated.    It  reads  somewhat  as  follows : 

"  By  the  decree  of  the  angels  and  the  verdict  of 
the  saints  we  separate,  curse  and  imprecate  Baruch 
de  Spinoza  with  the  consent  of  the  blessed  God 
and  of  this  holy  congregation,  before  the  holy  books 
of  the  Law  with  the  commandments  that  are  in- 
scribed therein,  with  the  ban  with  which  Joshua 
banned  Jericho,  with  the  curse  with  which  Elias 
cursed  the   youths,  and    with    all   the    imprecations 


SPINOZA.  139 

that  are  written  in  the  Law.  Cursed  be  he  by  day 
and  cursed  by  night ;  cursed  when  he  lies  down, 
and  cursed  when  he  rises  ;  cursed  in  his  going  forth, 
and  cursed  in  his  coming  in.  May  the  Lord  God 
refuse  to  pardon  him  ;  may  his  wrath  and  anger  be 
kindled  against  this  man,  and  on  him  rest  all  the 
curses  that  are  written  in  this  book  of  the  Law. 
May  the  Lord  wipe  out  his  name  from  under  the 
heavens,  and  separate  him  for  evil  from  all  the 
tribes  of  Israel,  with  all  the  curses  of  the  firmament 
that  are  written  in  the  book  of  the  Law.  And  ye 
that  hold  fast  to  the  Lord  God  are  all  living  this 
day !  we  warn  you  that  none  shall  communicate 
with  him  either  by  word  of  mouth  or  letter,  nor 
show  him  any  favor,  nor  rest  under  the  same  roof 
with  him,  nor  approach  his  person  within  four  yards, 
nor  read  any  writing  that  he  has  written." 

When  Spinoza  heard  of  this  anathema  he  calmly 
replied  :  "  They  compel  me  to  do  nothing  which  I 
was  not  previously  resolved  upon."  He  retired 
from  the  commerce  of  the  world.  He  coveted 
solitude.  Within  his  silent  chamber  he  moved  in  a 
world  of  his  own.  There  in  twenty  years  of  patient 
passionless  toil  he  built  up  the  mighty  edifice  of  his 
system.  It  rises  before  us  as  if  hewn  of  granite 
rock.  Its  simplicity,  its  grandeur,  its  structural 
power  have  been  the  wonder  of  men.  I  can  offer 
only  the  barest  outline  of  its  design. 


140  CREED   AND   DEED. 

Man's  questioning  spirit  seeks  to  penetrate  to 
the  heart  of  Nature,  would  grasp  the  origin  of 
things.  There  is  this  mighty  riddle  :  who  will  solve 
it  ?  Various  attempts  have  been  made.  Pantheism 
is  one.  Spinoza  was  the  great  philosopher  of  Pan- 
theism. 

Beneath  all  diversity  there  is  unity.  In  all  of 
Nature's  myriad  forms  and  changes,  there  is  a  sub- 
stance unchangeable.  It  is  uncreated,  undivided, 
uncaused,  the  Absolute,  Infinite,  God.  Thought 
and  extension  are  its  attributes ;  it  is  the  One  in 
All,  the  All  in  One.  God  is  not  matter,  is  not 
mind  ;  is  that  deeper  unity  in  which  matter  and 
mind  are  one ;  God  or  Nature,  Spinoza  says.  This 
is  not  the  God  of  theology.  God  is  in  the  tree,  in 
the  stone,  in  the  stars,  in  man.  God  does  not  live, 
nor  labor  for  any  purpose,  but  produces  from  the 
necessity  of  his  Being  in  endless  variety,  in  ceaseless 
activity.  He  is  the  inner  cause  of  all  things,  the 
ultimate  Reality,  and  all  things  are  as  in  their  nature 
they  partake  of  him. 

Man  also  is  of  God.  The  essence  of  man  is  in 
the  mind.  Man  is  a  logical  being.  God  alone  owns 
truth ;  in  so  far  as  man  thinks  truly  and  clearly,  he 
is  a  part  of  the  infinite  God.  Logic  is  the  basis  of 
ethics.  Spinoza  ignores  sentiment,  ignores  art. 
Good  and  evil  are  but  other  names  for  useful  and 
not  useful.     But  that  alone  is  useful  that  we  follow 


SPINOZA.  141 

the  necessary  and  universal  laws,  seeking  by  the 
depth  and  reach  of  intellect  to  know  and  understand. 

Virtue  is  the  pursuit  of  knowledge.  There  are 
three  kinds  of  knowledge :  the  blurred  perceptions 
of  the  senses,  the  light  of  the  understanding,  the 
intuition  of  intellect.     The  last  is  the  highest. 

Virtue  is  the  sense  of  being ;  whatever  heightens 
the  joyous  consciousness  of  our  active  faculties  is 
therefore  good.  The  wise  man  delights  in  the 
moderate  enjoyment  of  pleasant  food  and  drink,  in 
the  color  and  loveliness  of  green  shrubs,  in  the 
adornment  of  garments,  in  music*s  sweetness.  But 
our  true  being  is  to  be  found  only  in  intellect ; 
hence,  virtue  the  joy  of  being,  is  the  joy  of  thought ; 
hence,  the  bold  assertion — that  is  moral  which 
helps,  and  that  immoral  which  hinders  thought. 

Man  is  a  social  being.  As  a  drop  is  raised 
upward  in  the  great  ocean  by  the  onflowing  of  the 
wave,  so  the  individual  mind  is  exalted  by  the 
presence  and  communion  of  congenial  minds  mov- 
ing in  the  same  current. 

'Tis  thus  that  Spinoza  deduces  the  social  virtues. 
Hate  is  evil  at  all  times,  for  hate  implies  the  iso- 
lation and  the  weakness  of  the  powers  of  reason. 
We  should  reward  hatred  with  love  and  restore 
the  broken  accord  of  intellect.  Love  is  the  sense 
of  kinship  in  the  common  search  for  reason's  goal 
— wisdom.     That    all  men    should    so  live  and   act 


142  CREED  AND   DEED. 

together  that  they  may  form,  as  it  were,  one  body 
and  one  mind,  is  the  ideal  of  life.  Friendship  there- 
fore he  prizes  as  the  dearest  of  earth's  possessions, 
and  wedlock  he  esteems  holy  because  in  it  is  ce- 
mented the  union  of  two  souls  for  the  common  search 
of  truth.  We  should  be  serene  at  all  times  and 
shun  fear,  which  is  weakness,  and  hope  also  which 
is  the  child  of  desire,  and  haughtiness  and  humble- 
ness and  remorse  and  pity  should  we  avoid.  But 
in  stillness  and  with  collected  power  shall  we  possess 
our  souls  obedient  to  the  laws  of  mind  that  make 
our  being  and  helping  when  we  help  for  reason's 
sake.  The  passions  bind  us  to  passing  phenomena. 
When  they  become  transparent  to  our  reason,  when 
we  know  their  causes  then  our  nature  conquers  out- 
ward nature  and  we  are  masters,  we  are  free. 

Thus  the  emotional  life  is  extinguished.  The 
feelings  lose  their  color  and  vitality,  become  blank 
"  as  lines  and  surfaces,"  and  man,  freed  from  the 
constraints  of  passion,  dwells  in  the  pure  realm  of 
intellect,  and  in  constant  intercourse  with  the  mind 
of  God,  fulfills  the  purpose  of  his  existence — to 
know  and  understand. 

Against  the  blows  of  misfortune  also  reason 
steels  us.  Sorrow  is  but  the  lurking  suspicion  that 
all  might  have  been  otherwise.  When  we  come  to 
know  that  all  things  are  by  necessity,  we  shall  find 
tranquiUity    in  yielding  to  the   inevitable.      For  so 


SPINOZA.  143 

God  works  by  necessity.  For  all  things  are  in  his 
hands  as  clay  in  the  hand  of  the  potter,  which  the 
potter  taketh  and  fashioneth  therefrom  vessels  of 
diverse  value,  some  to  honor  and  some  to  disgrace. 
And  none  shall  rebuke  him,  for  all  is  by  necessity. 

When  the  body  passes  away  the  mind  does  not 
wholly  perish,  but  something  remains  that  is  infinite, 
an  eternal  modus  dwelling  in  the  depths  of  the  eter- 
nal mind.  But  though  we  knew  not  that  something 
of  the  mind  remained,  yet  were  goodness  and  strength 
of  soul  to  be  sought  for  above  all  else.  For  who, 
foreseeing  that  he  cannot  always  feed  on  healthy 
nourishment,  would  therefore  sate  himself  with 
deadly  poison  ?  or  who,  though  he  knew  that  the 
mind  is  not  immortal,  would  therefore  lead  an 
empty  life,  devoid  of  reason's  good  and  guidance  ? 
The  wisdom  of  the  wise  and  the  freedom  of  the  free 
is  not  in  the  aspect  of  death  but  of  life.  Religion 
and  piety  lead  us  to  follow  the  laws  of  necessity  in 
the  world  where  they  are  manifest,  to  dwell  on  the 
intellect  of  God,  of  God  their  fount  and  origin. 

But  I  forbear  to  enter  farther  into  this  wonderful 
system.  We  see  a  giant  wrestling  with  nature, 
seeking  to  wrest  from  her  her  secret.  Mysterious 
nature  baffles  him  and  the  riddle  is  still  unread. 
That  substance  of  which  he  speaks  is  no  more  than 
an  abstraction  of  the  mind  whose  reality  in  the 
outward  world  he  has  failed  to  prove.     He  has  also 


144  CREED  AND   DEED. 

erred  in  turning  aside  from  the  rich  and  manifold 
life  of  the  emotions,  for  the  emotions  are  not  in 
themselves  evil,  they  are  the  seminal  principle  of 
all  virtue. 

On  pillars  of  intellect,  Spinoza  reared  his  system. 
Still,  solemn,  sublime  like  high  mountains  it  towers 
upward,  but  is  devoid  of  color  and  warmth,  and  even 
the  momentary  glow  that  now  and  then  starts  up  in 
his  writings,  passes  quickly  away  like  the  flush  of 
evening  that  reddens  the  snowy  summits  of  Alpine 
ranges. 

Spinoza's  name  marks  a  lofty  peak  in  human 
history.  He  was  a  true  man  ;  no  man  more  fully 
lived  his  teachings.  If  he  describes  the  pursuit 
of  knowledge  as  the  highest  virtue,  he  was  him- 
self a  noble  example  of  tireless  devotion  in  that 
pursuit.  He  was  well  versed  in  the  natural  sciences, 
skillful  in  the  use  of  the  microscope,  and  his  contri- 
butions to  the  study  of  the  inner  life  of  man  have 
earned  him  lasting  recognition.  Johannes  Mueller, 
the  distinguished  physiologist,  has  included  the 
third  division  of  Spinoza's  Ethics  in  his  well  known 
work  on  physiology. 

Religion,  however,  was  Spinoza's  favorite  theme, 
that  religion  which  is  free  from  all  passionate 
longings  and  averse  to  superstition  of  whatever  kind. 
He  was  among  the  first  to  hurl  his  mighty  arguments 
against   the  infaUible   authority  of  the   Bible,  argu- 


SPINOZA.  145 

merits  that  still  command  attention  though  two 
hundred  years  have  since  passed  by.  Miracles,  he 
said,  are  past  belief,  the  beauty  of  Cosmos  is  far 
more  deserving  of  admiration  than  any  so  called 
miracle  could  possibly  be.  He  demanded — this  was 
a  great  and  novel  claim — that  the  methods  of 
natural  science  be  applied  to  the  study  of  scripture, 
that  the  character  of  the  age  and  local  surround- 
ings be  considered  in  determining  the  meaning  of 
each  scriptural  author.  In  brief  that  a  natural 
history  of  the  bible,  so  to  speak,  should  be  attempt- 
ed. He  claimed  that  the  priesthood  had  falsified 
the  very  book  which  they  professed  to  regard 
most  holy.  He  denied  the  Mosaic  authorship  of  the 
Pentateuch,  and  set  forth  in  singularly  clear  and 
lucid  language  the  discrepancies  in  which  that  work 
abounds.  He  closed  the  treatise  in  which  these 
views  are  laid  down — the  Theologico-political  Tract 
— with  a  magnificent  plea  for  liberty  of  conscience 
and  of  speech.  That  state  alone,  he  says,  can  be 
free  and  happy  which  rests  on  the  freedom  of  the 
individual  citizen.  Where  the  right  of  free  ut- 
terance is  curtailed,  hypocrisy  and  shameful  con- 
formance flourish,  and  public  contumely  and  dis- 
grace which  ought  to  serve  as  a  mete  punishment 
for  the  vicious,  become  a  halo  about  the  head  of  the 
most  noble  of  men.  Religion  and  piety,  he  con- 
cludes, the  state  has  a  right  to  demand,  but  nothing 
7 


146  CREED   AND   DEED. 

hereafter  shall  be  known  as  religion  and  piety  save 
the  practice  of  equity  and  of  a  wise  and  helpful  love. 

It  was  a  bold  awakening  note  which  thus  rang 
out  into  the  seventeenth  century,  and  theologians 
were  bitter  in  their  replies.  The  book  was  confis- 
cated and  Christian  curses  were  added  to  Jewish 
anathemas.     But  they  failed  to  affect  Spinoza. 

Few  men  have  suffered  as  he  did.  Few  have 
preserved  the  same  equanimity  of  soul  in  the  face  of 
adverse  fortune.  Twenty  years  he  dwelt  alone.  For 
days  he  did  not  leave  his  student's  closet,  drawing 
his  mighty  circles,  intent  on  those  high  thoughts  that 
formed  the  companionship  he  loved.  Those  that 
knew  him  well  revered  him.  De  Witt  the  noble 
statesman,  De  Witt  who  ended  his  days  so  miser- 
ably, torn  to  pieces  by  a  maddened  mob,  sought  his 
counsel.  Young  ardent  disciples  from  a  distance 
sent  him  words  of  cheer  into  his  solitude.  His  soul 
was  pure  as  sunlight,  his  character  crystal  clear.  He 
was  frugal  in  the  extreme :  a  few  pence  a  day  suf- 
ficed to  sustain  him.  Not  that  he  affected  austere 
views  in  general,  but  the  deep  meditations  that  oc- 
cupied his  mind  left  him  little  time  or  incHnation  for 
the  grosser  pleasures.  His  sense  of  honor  was 
scrupulously  nice.  Again  and  again  did  he  reject 
the  munificent  pensions  which  his  friends  pressed 
upon  him ;  he  would  be  free  and  self-sustained  in  all 
things.     In  his  leisure  hours  he  busied  himself  with 


SPINOZA.  147 

the  grinding  and  polishing  of  optical  lenses,  an  exercise 
that  offered  him  at  once  the  means  of  support  and 
a  welcome  relaxation  from  the  severe  strain  of  men- 
tal effort.  His  temper  was  rarely  ruffled ;  he  was 
placid,  genial,  childlike.  When  wearied  with  his 
labors  he  would  descend  to  the  family  of  his  land- 
lord, the  painter  Van  der  Speke,  and  entering  into 
the  affairs  of  these  simple  people,  he  found,  in  their 
unaffected  converse,  the  relief  he  sought. 

He  valued  the  peace  of  mind  which  he  had  pur- 
chased so  dearly.  When  the  Elector  of  the  Palatin- 
ate offered  him  the  chair  of  philosophy  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  Heidelberg  on  condition  that  he  would  so 
expound  his  philosophy  as  not  to  interfere  with  the 
established  religion,  he  declined,  replying  that  he 
could  teach  the  truth  only  as  he  saw  it,  and  that  evil 
and  designing  men  would  doubtless  add  point  and 
poison  to  his  words.  Yet  he  was  fearless.  When 
toward  the  close  of  his  career,  his  life  was  again 
imperiled,  the  grave  tranquillity  of  his  demeanor 
inspired  his  agitated  friends  with  calmness  and  con- 
fidence. 

He  had  gained  his  forty-fourth  year.  For  half  a 
tiife  time  he  had  been  fighting  a  treacherous  disease, 
that  preyed  in  secret  upon  his  health.  His  life  was 
slowly  ebbing  away  amidst  constant  suffering,  yet 
no  complaint  crossed  his  lips  and  his  nearest  com- 
panions were  hardly  aware  of  what  he  endured.     In 


148  CREED  AND  DEED. 

the  early  part  of  the  year  1677  one  day  in  February, 
while  the  family  of  the  painter  were  at  church  the 
end  approached.  Only  a  single  friend  was  with  him. 
Calmly  as  he  had  lived,  in  the  stillness  of  the  Sunday 
afternoon,  Spinoza  passed  away. 

He  has  left  a  name  in  history  that  will  not  fade. 
His  people  cast  him  out,  Christianity  rejected  him, 
but  he  has  found  a  wider  fellowship,  he  belongs  to  all 
mankind.  Great  hearts  have  throbbed  responsive  to 
his  teachings  and  many  a  sorrowful  soul  has  owned 
the  restful  influence  of  his  words.  He  was  a  helper 
of  mankind.  Not  surely  because  he  solved  the  ulti- 
mate problems  of  existence — what  mortal  ever  will — 
but  because  he  was  wise  in  the  secret  of  the  heart, 
because  he  taught  men  to  appease  their  fretful  pas- 
sions in  the  aspect  of  the  infinite  laws  in  which  we 
live  and  are. 

Sacred  is  the  hour  in  which  we  read  his  Ethics. 
From  the  heat  and  glare  of  life  we  enter  into  its 
precincts  as  into  the  cool  interior  of  some  hallowed 
temple  of  religion.  But  no  idol  stands  there;  the 
spirit  of  truth  alone  presides  and  sanctifies  the  place 
and  us.  The  great  men  of  the  past  we  will  rever- 
ence. They  are  mile-stones  on  the  highway  of  hu- 
manity, types  of  the  Infinite,  that  has  dawned  in 
human  breasts.  Such  an  one  was  he  of  whom  I 
have  spoken.  And  more  and  more  as  the  light  in- 
creases among  men  will  all  that  was  good  and  great 


SPINOZA,  149 

in  him  shine  forth  to  irradiate  their  path.  And  as 
we  stand  here  to-day  on  this  day  of  remembrance  to 
recall  his  teachings  and  his  example,  so  when  other 
centuries  shall  have  elapsed,  the  memory  of  Spinoza 
will  still  live,  posterity  will  still  own  him,  and  dis- 
tant generations  will  name  him  anew  :  Benedictus — 
Blessed ! 


IX. 


THE  FOUNDER  OF  CHRISTIANITY* 

"  I  am  not  come  to  destroy,  but  to  fulfil,  for 
verily  I  say  unto  you  till  heaven  and  earth  pass  away 
one  jot  or  one  tittle  shall  in  no  wise  pass  from  the  law 
till  all  be  fulfilled."  ''  Resist  not  evil,  ^  ^  ^  bless 
them  that  curse  you,  do  good  to  them  that  hate  you/* 

In  these  sayings  of  Jesus  the  key  note  of  early 
Christianity  is  struck.  It  was  not  a  revolt  against 
Judaism,  it  was  but  a  reiterated  assertion  of  what 
other  and  older  Prophets  of  the  Hebrews  had  so 
often  and  so  fervently  preached.  The  law  was  to 
remain  intact,  but  the  spiritual  law  was  meant,  the 
deeper  law  of  conscience  that  underhes  the  forms 
of  legislation  and  the  symbols  of  external  worship. 

There  is  a  rare  and  gracious  quality  in  the  per- 
sonality of  Jesus  as  described  in  the  Gospels,  which 
has  exercised  its  charm  upon  the  most  hetero- 
geneous nations  and  periods  of  history  wide  apart  in 
the  order  of  time  and  of  culture. 

To  grasp  the  subtle  essence  of  that  charm,  and 
thereby  to  understand  what  it  was  that  has  given 

*  A  discourse  delivered  on  Sunday,  December  31,  1S76. 


THE  FOUNDER  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  151 

Christianity  so  powerful  a  hold  upon  the  affections 
of  mankind,  were  a  task  well  worthy  the  attention 
of  thoughtful  minds.  We  desire  to  approach  our 
subject  in  the  spirit  of  reverence  that  befits  a  theme 
with  which  the  tenderest  fibres  of  faith  are  so  inti- 
mately interwoven  ;  at  the  same  time  we  shall  pay 
no  regard  to  the  dogmatic  character  with  which  his 
later  followers  have  invested  Jesus,  for  we  behold 
his  true  grandeur  in  the  pure  and  noble  humanity 
which  he  illustrated  in  his  life  and  teachings. 

The  New  Testament  presents  but  scant  material 
for  the  biography  of  Jesus,  and  the  authenticity, 
even  of  the  little  that  remains  to  us,  has  been  ren- 
dered extremely  uncertain  by  the  labors  of  modern 
critics.  A  few  leading  narratives,  however,  are 
doubtless  trustworthy,  and  these  will  suffice  for  our 
purpose.  A  brief  introduction  on  the  character  of 
the  people  among  whom  the  new  prophet  arose,  the 
characteristics  of  the  age  in  which  he  lived,  and  the 
beliefs  that  obtained  in  his  immediate  surroundings, 
will  assist  us  in  our  task. 

The  expectation  of  the  Messiah  had  long  been 
rife  among  the  Jews.  Holding  themselves  to  be  the 
elect  people  of  God,  they  believed  the  triumph  of 
monotheism  to  be  dependent  upon  themselves.  The 
prophets  of  Jehovah  had  repeatedly  assured  them 
that  their  supremacy  would  finally  be  acknowledged. 
Events  however  had  turned  out  differently.    Instead 


152  CREED  AND   DEED. 

of  success  they  met  with  constant  defeat  and  disas- 
ter ;  Persia,  Egypt,  Syria  had  successively  held  their 
land  in  subjection  ;  the  very  existence  of  their  reli- 
gion was  threatened,  and  the  heathen  world,  far  from 
showing  signs  of  approaching  conversion,  insisted 
upon  its  errors  with  increased  obstinacy  and  assur- 
ance. And  yet  Jehovah  had  distinctly  promised 
that  he  would  raise  up  in  his  own  good  time,  a  new 
ruler  from  the  ancient  line  of  Israelis  Kings,  a  son 
of  David,  who  should  lead  the  people  to  Victory. 
To  his  sceptre  all  the  nations  would  bow,  and  in  his 
reign  the  faith  of  the  Hebrews  would  be  acknowl- 
edged as  the  universal  religion.  Every  natural 
means  for  the  fulfilment  of  these  predictions  seemed 
now  cut  off,  nothing  remained  but  to  take  refuge  in 
the  supernatural ;  it  was  said  that  the  old  order  of 
things  must  entirely  pass  away ;  a  new  heaven  and 
a  new  earth  be  created  and  what  was  called  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  might  then  be  expected.  The 
"  Kingdom  of  Heaven,"  a  phrase  that  frequently 
recurs  in  the  literature  of  the  Jews,  is  used,  not  to 
describe  a  locality,  but  to  denote  a  state  of  affairs 
on  earth,  in  which  the  will  of  heaven  would  be  gen- 
erally obeyed  without  the  further  intervention  of 
human  laws  and  government.  The  agency  of  the 
Messiah  was  looked  to,  for  the  consummation  of 
these  happy  hopes.  To  reward  those  who  had  per- 
ished before  his  coming,  many  moreover  of  those 


THE  FOUNDER  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  1 53 

that  slept  in  the  dust  would  awaken,  and  the  general 
resurrection  of  the  dead  would  signalize  the  ap- 
proach of  the  millennium. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  century  B.  c.  these  expec- 
tations had  created  a  wild  ferment  among  the  popu- 
lation of  Palestine.  Now  if  ever,  it  was  fondly  urged, 
they  must  be  fulfilled.  The  need  was  at  its  highest, 
help  then  must  be  nighest.  For  matters  had  indeed 
grown  from  bad  to  worse,  the  political  situation  was 
intolerable,  after  the  brief  spell  of  independence  in 
the  days  of  the  Maccabees,  the  Roman  yoke  had 
been  fastened  upon  the  necks  of  the  people,  and 
the  weight  of  oppression  became  tenfold  more  diffi- 
cult to  support  from  the  sweet  taste  of  liberty 
that  had  preceded  it.  The  rapacity  of  the  Roman 
Governors  knew  no  bounds.  A  land  impoverished 
by  incessant  wars  and  the  frequent  failure  of  the 
crops,  was  drained  of  its  last  resources  to  satisfy  the 
enormous  exactions  of  a  foreign  despot,  while  to  all 
this  was  added  the  humiliating  consciousness  that  it 
was  a  nation  of  idolators  which  was  thus  permitted 
to  grind  the  chosen  people. 

Nor  was  the  condition  of  religion  at  all  more 
satisfactory.  It  is  true  the  splendid  rites  of  the 
public  worship  were  still  maintained  at  the  Temple, 
and  Herod  was  even  then  re-building  the  Sanctuary 
on  a  scale  of  unparalleled  magnificence.  Bright  was 
the    sheen   and   glitter   of    gold   upon   its    portals, 


154  CREED  AND   DEED. 

solemn  the  ceremonies  enacted  in  its  halls,  and 
grand  and  impressive  the  voices  of  the  Levitic 
choirs  as  they  sang  to  the  tuneful  melody  of  cym- 
bals and  of  harps.  But  the  lessons  of  history  teach 
us  that  the  times  in  which  lavish  sums  are  expended 
on  externals,  are  not  usually  those  in  which  religion 
posesses  true  vitality  and  power  and  depth.  Here 
was  a  brand  flickering  near  extinction  ;  here  was  a 
builder  who  built  for  destruction ;  the  Temple  had 
ceased  to  satisfy  the  needs  of  the  people. 

In  the  cities  an  attempt  to  supply  the  deficiency 
was   made  by   the   party  of  the    Pharisees.     They 
sought  to  broaden  and  to  spiritualize  the  meaning 
of  scripture — they  laid  down  new  forms  of  religious 
observance  by  means  of  which  every  educated  man 
became,  so  to  speak,  his  own  priest.     The  religion 
of  the  Pharisees  however  assumed  a  not  inconsider- 
able degree  of  intellectual  ability  on  the  part  of  its 
followers.     So  far  as  it  went  it  answered  very  well 
for  the  intelligent  middle  classes.     But   out  in  the 
country  districts  it  did  not  answer  at  all ;   not  for 
the   herdsmen,  not  for   the    poor   peasants,  not    for 
those  who  had  not  even  the  rudiments  of  learning 
and  who  could  do  nothing  with  a  learned  religion. 
And   yet   these  very  men  before  all  others  needed 
something  to  support  them,  something  to  cling  to, 
even    because  they    were   so  miserably    poor    and 
iUiterate.     They   did  not   get  what   they  wanted— 


THE   FOUNDER   OF  CHRISTIANITY.  155 

they  felt  very  strongly  that  the  burdens  upon  them 
were  exceedingly  grievous ;  that  while  they  suf- 
fered and  starved,  religion  dwelt  in  palaces,  and 
had  no  heart  for  their  misfortunes.  They  felt  that 
something  was  wrong  and  rotten  in  the  then  state 
of  affairs,  and  that  a  new  state  must  come,  and  a 
heaven-sent  king,  who  would  lend  a  voice  to  their 
needs,  and  lift  them  with  strong  arms  from  out 
their  despair  and  degradation.  Nowhere  was  this 
feeling  more  marked  than  in  the  district  of  Galilee. 
A  beautiful  land  with  green,  grassy  valleys,  groves 
of  sycamores,  broad  blue  lakes,  and  villages  nestling 
picturesquely  on  the  mountain  slopes,  it  nourished 
an  ardent  and  impulsive  population.  Their  impa- 
tience with  the  existing  order  of  things  had  already 
found  vent  in  furious  revolt.  Judah,  their  famous 
leader,  had  perished ;  his  two  sons,  James  and 
Simon,  had  been  nailed  to  the  cross;  the  Messiah 
was  daily  and  hourly  expected  ;  various  impostors 
successively  arose  anc}  quickly  disappeared  ;  when 
would  the  hour  of  deliverance  come  ;  when  would  the 
true  Messiah  appear  at  last  ? 

It  was  at  such  a  time  and  among  such  a  people, 
that  there  arose  Jesus  of  Nazareth  in  Galilee. 
What  was  the  startHng  truth  he  taught?  What 
was  the  new  revelation  he  preached  to  the  sons  of 
men?  An  old  truth,  and  an  old  sermon — Right- 
eousness ;    no    more,   meaning    nothing    at    all,    a 


156  CREED  AND   DEED. 

mere  trite  common-place,  on  the  lips  of  the  time- 
server  and  the  plausible  vendor  of  moral  phrases. 
Meaning  mighty  changes  for  the  better,  when 
invoked  with  a  profounder  sense  of  its  sanctity,  and 
a  new  sacredness  in  life,  and  larger  impulses  for 
ever  and  for  ever.  Righteousness  he  taught,  and 
the  change  that  was  to  come  by  righteousness. 
Yes,  so  deep  was  his  conviction,  so  profoundly  had 
the  current  conceptions  of  the  day  affected  him, 
that  he  believed  the  change  to  be  near  at  hand,  that 
he  himself  might  be  its  author,  himself  Messiah. 

The  novelty  of  Jesus*  work  has  been  sought  in 
various  directions.  It  has  been  said,  for  instance,  to 
consist  in  the  overthrow  of  phariseeism ;  and  it  is 
true  that  he  rebukes  the  pharisees  in  the  most  se- 
vere terms  ;  these  reproaches,  however,  were  not  di- 
rected against  the  party  as  a  whole,  but  only  against 
its  more  extravagant  and  unworthy  members.  The 
pharisees  were  certainly  not  a  "  race  of  hypocrites, 
and  a  generation  of  vipers.**  Let  us  remember 
that  Jesus  himself,  in  the  main,  adhered  to  their 
principles  ;  that  his  words  often  tally  strictly  with 
theirs ;  that  even  the  golden  sayings  which  are  col- 
lected in  the  sermon  on  the  mount,  may  be  found 
in  the  contemporaneous  Hebrew  writings,  whose 
authors  were  pharisees.  Thirty  years  before  his 
time,  Hillel  arose  among  the  pharisees,  renowned 
for  his  marvellous  erudition,  beloved  and  revered  be- 


THE   FOUNDER   OF  CHRISTIANITY.  1 57 

cause  of  the  gentleness  and  kindliness  of  his  bearing, 
the  meekness  with  which  he  endured  persecution,  the 
loving  patience  with  which  he  overcame  malice  and 
hate.  When  asked  to  express  in  brief  terms  the 
essence  of  the  law,  he  to  the  pharisee  replied,  "  Do 
not  unto  others  what  thou  wouldst  not  that  others 
do  unto  thee ;  this  is  the  essence,  all  the  rest  is 
commentary, — go  and  learn."  Jesus  fully  admits 
the  authority  of  the  pharisees.  "  The  pharisees,"  he 
says,  "  sit  in  Moses'  seat ;  all  therefore  whatsoever 
they  bid  you  observe,  that  observe  and  do."  If  we 
read  the  gospel  of  Matthew,  we  find  that  he  does 
not  attempt  to  abrogate  the  pharisaic  com- 
mandments, but  only  insists  upon  the  greater  im- 
portance of  the  commandments  of  the  heart. 
**  Woe,"  he  cries,  "  for  ye  pay  tithe  of  mint,  of 
anise  and  cumin,  but  ye  have  omitted  the  weight- 
ier matters  of  the  law,  judgment,  mercy  and 
faith,  these  ought  ye  to  have  done,  and  not  to  leave 
the  other  undone y — and  again,  "  If  thou  bring  thy 
gift  to  the  altar,  and  there  rememberest  that  thy 
brother  hath  aught  against  thee,  leave  there  thy 
gift  before  the  altar  and  go  thy  way ;  first  be  recon- 
ciled to  thy  brother,  and  then  come  and  offer  thy 
gift''  The  leper  also  whom  he  cured  of  his  disease, 
he  advises  to  bring  the  gift  prescribed  by  the 
Jewish  ritual.  We  cannot  fully  understand  the 
conduct  of  Jesus  in  this  respect,  unless  we  bear  in 


158  CREED  AND   DEED. 

mind  that  he  believed  the  millenial  time  to  be  near 
at  hand.  At  that  time  it  was  supposed  the  ancient 
ceremonial  of  Judaism  would  come  to  an  end  by  its 
own  limitation ;  until  that  time  arrived,  it  should  be 
respected.  He  does  not  wage  war  against  the 
religious  tenets  and  practices  of  his  age  ;  only  when 
they  interfere  with  the  superior  claims  of  moral 
rectitude  does  he  bitterly  denounce  them,  and 
ever  insists  that  righteousness  be  recognized  as 
the  one  thing  above  all  others  needful. 

Nor  is  the  novelty  of  Jesus*  work  to  be  found  in 
the  extension  of  the  gospel  to  the  heathen  world. 
It  seems,  on  the  contrary,  highly  probable  that  he 
conceived  his  mission  to  lie  within  the  sphere  of  his 
own  people,  and  devoted  his  chief  care  and  solicitude 
to  their  welfare.  *'  I  am  not  sent  but  unto  the  lost 
sheep  of  the  house  of  Israel,**  he  says ;  and  thus  he 
charges  his  apostles,  "  Go  ye  not  into  the  way  of  the 
Gentiles,  and  into  any  city  of  the  Samaritans  enter 
ye  not.  Go  rather  to  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of 
Israel,  and  as  ye  go,  preach,  saying  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  at  hand.*'  And  yet  his  exclusive  devotion 
to  the  interest  of  the  Jews  is  not  at  variance  with 
the  world-embracing  influence  attributed  to  the  Mes- 
sianic character.  In  common  with  all  his  people,  he 
believed  that  upon  the  approach  of  the  millennium, 
the  nations  of  the  earth  would  come  of  their  own 
accord,  to  the  holy  mount  of  Israel,  accept  Israel's 


THE  FOUNDER  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  159 

religion,  and  thenceforth  Hve  obedient  to  the  Messi- 
anic King.  The  millennium  was  now  believed  to  be 
actually  in  sight.  *'  Verily  I  say  unto  you  there  be 
some  standing  here  who  shall  not  taste  of  death  until 
they  see  the  Son  of  man  coming  in  his  Kingdom.*' 
From  the  Jewish  standpoint,  therefore,  which  was 
the  one  taken  by  Jesus  and  the  earliest  Christians, 
the  mission  to  the  heathen  was  unnecessary. 

**  And  again  it  has  been  said  that  the  evangel  of 
Jesus  was  new,  in  that  it  substituted  for  the  stern 
law  of  retribution  the  methods  of  charity  and  the 
law  of  love;  that  while  the  elder  prophets  had 
taught  the  people  to  consider  themselves  servants 
of  a  task-master,  he  taught  them  freedom  and 
brotherhood.  But  is  this  true?  Will  any  one  who 
has  read  the  Hebrew  Prophets  with  attention,  ven- 
ture to  assert  that  they  instil  a  slavish  fear  into  the 
hearts  of  men  ;  they  whose  every  line  speaks  aspira- 
tion, whose  every  word  breathes  liberty  ?  It  is  true 
their  language  is  often  stern  when  they  dwell  on 
duty.  And  it  is  right  that  it  should  be  so,  for  so  also 
is  duty  stern  and  in  matters  of  conscience  sentimental 
ism  is  out  of  place,  harmful.  Simple  obedience  to 
the  dictates  of  the  moral  law  is  required,  impera- 
tively, unconditionally,  not  for  pity*s  sake,  nor  for 
love's  sake,  but  for  the  right's  sake,  simply  and 
solely  because  it  is  right.  But  the  emotions  Jhat 
are  never  the  sufficient  sanctions  of  conduct  may 


l6o  CREED   AND   DEED. 

ennoble  and  glorify  right  conduct.  And  how  ten- 
derly do  the  ancient  prophets  also  attune  their  mo- 
nitions to  the  promptings  of  the  richest  and  purest 
of  human  sympathies.  *'  Thy  neighbor  thou  shalt 
love  as  thyself/*  was  written  by  them,  and  **  Have 
we  not  all  one  Father,  has  not  one  God  created  us 
all.'*  Thy  poor  brother  too  is  thy  brother,  and  in 
secret  shalt  thou  give  charity.  In  the  dusk  of  the 
evening  the  poor  are  to  come  into  the  cornfields  and 
gather  there,  and  no  man  shall  know  who  has  given 
and  who  has  received.  The  ancient  prophets  were 
idealists,  preachers  of  the  Spirit  as  opposed  to  the 
form  that  cramps  and  belittles.  In  Jesus  we  behold 
a  renewal  of  their  order,  a  living  protest  against 
the  formalism  that  had  in  the  interval  become  en- 
crusted about  their  teachings,  only  differing  from 
his  predecessors  in  this,  that  the  hopes  which  they 
held  out  for  a  distant  future,  seemed  to  him  nigh 
their  fulfilment,  and  that  he  believed  himself  destined 
to  fulfil  them. 

If  we  can  discx)ver  nothing  that  had  not  been 
previously  stated  in  the  substance  of  Jesus*  teach- 
ings, there  is  that  in  the  method  he  pursued,  which 
calls  for  genuine  admiration  and  reverence,  the 
method  of  rousing  against  the  offender  the  better 
nature  in  himself:  of  seeming  yielding  to  offence 
based  on  an  implicit  trust  in  the  resilient  energy  of 
the  good ;   of  conquering  others,  by  the  strength  of 


THE  FOUNDER   OF   CHRISTIANITY.  l6l 

meekness  and  the  might  of  love.  Hillel  too  was  en- 
dowed with  this  strength  of  meekness,  and  Buddha 
had  said,  long  before  the  days  of  Jesus  :  "  Hatred  is 
not  conquered  by  hatred  at  any  time,  hatred  is  con- 
quered by  love  ;  this  is  an  old  rule."  But  in  the  story 
of  no  other  life  has  this  method  been  applied  with 
such  singular  sweetness,  with  such  consistent  har- 
mony from  the  beginning  to  the  end.  Whether  we 
find  him  in  the  intimate  circle  of  his  disciples,  whether 
he  is  instructing  the  multitude  along  the  sunny 
shores  of  Lake  Gennesareth,  whether  he  stands 
before  the  tribunal  of  his  judges,  or  in  the  last  dire 
agonies  of  death — he  is  ever  the  patient  man,  the 
loving  teacher,  the  man  of  sorrows,  who  looks  be- 
yond men  and  their  crimes  to  an  ideal  humanity,  and 
confides  in  that ;  who  gives  largely,  and  forgives  even 
because  he  gives  so  much. 

But  we  shall  not  touch  the  true  secret  of  his 
power  until  we  recall  his  sympathy  with  the  neg- 
lected classes  of  society ;  that  quality  of  his  nature 
which  caused  the  poor  of  Galilee  to  hail  him  as  their 
deliverer,  which  produced  so  lasting  an  impression  , 
upon  his  contemporaries,  and  made  the  development 
of  his  doctrines  into  a  great  religion  possible.  His 
gospel  was  preeminently  the  gospel  for  the  poor; 
he  sat  down  with  despised  publicans,  he  did  not 
shun  the  contamination  of  lepers,  nay  nor  of  the 
moral  leprosy  of  sin — he  visited  the  hovels  of  pau- 


l62  CREED  AND   DEED. 

pers  and  taught  his  disciples  to  prefer  them  to  the 
mansions  of  the  fortunate  ;  he  applied  himself  with 
peculiar  fervor  to  those  dumb  illiterate  masses  of 
Galilee,  who  knew  not  whither  they  might  turn,  to 
what  they  might  cling.  He  gave  them  hope,  he 
brought  them  help.  And  so  it  came  about  that  in 
the  early  Christian  communities  which  were  still 
fresh  from  the  presence  of  the  master,  the  appeal  to 
conscience  he  had  made  so  pov/erfully,  resulted 
in  solid  helpfulness ;  so  it  came  about  that  in  those 
pristine  days,  the  Church  was  a  real  instrument  of 
practical  good,  with  few  forms,  and  little  parade,  but 
with  love  feasts  and  the  communion  table  spread 
with  repasts  for  the  needy.  "  Come  unto  me  all 
ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden  and  I  will  give 
you  rest.  Take  my  yoke  upon  you  and  learn  of 
me,  *  ^  for  my  yoke  is  easy  and  my  burden  is  light.'* 
It  is  from  such  particulars  that  there  was  drawn 
that  fascinating  image  which  has  captivated  the 
fancy  and  attracted  the  worship  of  mankind.  The 
image  of  the  pale  man  with  the  deep,  earnest  eyes, 
who  roused  men  to  new  exertions  for  the  good,  who 
lifted  up  the  down-trodden,  who  loved  little  children 
and  taught  the  older  children  in  riddles  and  parables 
that  they  might  understand,  and  the  brief  career 
of  whose  life  was  hallowed  all  the  more  in  memory, 
because  of  the  mournful  tragedy  in  which  it  closed. 
All    the    noblest    qualities    of    humanity   were    put 


THE  FOUNDER  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  1 63 

into  this  picture  and  made  it  lovely.  It  was  the 
humanity,  not  the  dogma  of  Jesus,  by  which 
Christianity  triumphed.  Like  a  refreshing  shower 
in  the  perfumed  spring,  his  glad  tidings  of  a  new 
enthusiasm  for  the  good  came  upon  the  arid 
Roman  world,  sickening  with  the  dry  rot  of  self- 
indulgence,  and  thirsting  for  some  principle  to  give 
a  purpose  to  the  empty  weariness  of  existence. 
Like  a  message  from  a  sphere  of  light  it  spread  to 
the  Germanic  tribes,  tempered  the  harshness  of  their 
manners,  taught  them  a  higher  law  than  that  of 
force,  and  conquered  their  grim  strength  with  the 
mild  pleadings  of  the  Master  of  meekness  in  far-off 
Galilee. 

It  is  the  moral  element  contained  in  it  that  alone 
gives  value  and  dignity  to  any  religion,  and  only  then 
when  its  teachings  serve  to  stimulate  and  purify  our 
aspirations  toward  the  good,  does  it  deserve  to 
retain  its  ascendancy  over  mankind.  Claiming  to 
be  of  celestial  origin,  the  religions  have  drawn  their 
secret  spell  from  the  human  heart  itself.  There  is 
a  principle  of  reverence  inborn  in  every  child  of 
man, — this  he  would  utter.  He  sees  the  firmament 
above  him,  with  its  untold  hosts  ;  he  stands  in  the 
midst  of  mighty  workings,  he  is  filled  with  awe  ;  he 
stretches  forth  his  arms  to  grasp  the  Infinite  which 
his  soul  seeketh,  he  makes  unto  himself  signs  and 
symbols,  saying,  let  these  be  tokens  of  what  no  words 


164  CREED  AND  DEED. 

can  convey.  But  a  little  time  elapses,  and  these 
symbols  themselves  seem  more  than  human,  they 
point  no  more  beyond  themselves,  and  man  becomes 
an  idolator,  not  of  stone  and  wood  merely.  Then 
it  is  needful  that  he  remember  the  divine  power 
with  which  his  soul  has  been  clothed  from  the 
beginning,  that  by  the  force  of  some  moral  impulse 
he  may  break  through  the  fetters  of  the  creeds,  and 
cast  aside  the  weight  of  doctrines  that  express  his 
best  ideals  no  more.  And  so  we  find  in  history 
that  every  great  religious  reformation  has  been 
indebted  for  its  triumphs,  not  to  the  doctrines  that 
swam  upon  the  surface,  but  to  the  swelling  currents 
of  moral  energy  that  stirred  it  from  below  ;  not  to 
the  doctrine  of  the  Logos  in  Jesus'  day,  but  to  the 
tidings  of  release  which  he  brought  to  the  oppressed, 
not  to  "justification  by  faith,'*  in  Luther's  time,  but 
to  the  mighty  reaction  to  which  his  thunderous 
protest  lent  a  voice,  against  the  lewdness  and  the 
license  of  a  corrupt  and  cankerous  priesthood. 
The  appeal  to  conscience  has  ever  been  the  lever 
that  raised  mankind  to  a  higher  plane  of  religion. 

Conscience,  righteousness,  what  is  there  new  in 
these — their  maxims  are  as  old  as  the  hills  ?  Truly, 
and  as  barren  often  as  the  rocks.  The  novelty  of 
righteousness  is  not  in  itself,  but  in  its  novel  apphca- 
tion  to  the  particular  unrighteousness  of  a  particular 
age.     It  was  thus  that   Jesus  applied   to   the   sins 


THE  FOUNDER  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  16$ 

and  mock  sanctities  of  his  day,  the  ancient  truths 
known  to  the  prophets  and  to  others  long  before 
him.  It  is  thus  that  every  new  reformer  will  seek  to 
bring  home  to  the  men  of  his  generation  what  it  is 
that  the  ancient  standard  of  right  and  justice  now 
requires  at  their  hands.  That  all  men  are  brothers, 
who  did  not  concede  it  ?  But  that  the  enslaved 
man  too  is  our  brother,  what  a  convulsion  did  that 
not  cause,  what  vast  expenditure  of  blood  and  treas- 
ure until  that  was  made  plain.  That  we  should 
relieve  the  necessities  of  the  poor,  who  will  deny 
it  ?  But  that  a  social  system  which  year  by  year 
witnesses  the  increase  of  the  pauper  class,  and  the 
increase  of  their  miseries,  stands  condemned  before 
the  tribunal  of  Religion,  of  justice,  how  long  will  it 
take  before  that  is  understood  and  taken  to  heart? 
The  facts  of  righteousness  are  few  and  simple,  but  to 
apply  them  how  mighty,  how  difficult  a  task.  The 
time  is  approaching  when  this  stupendous  work  must 
be  attempted  anew,  and  we,  a  small  phalanx  in  the 
army  of  progress,  would  aid,  with  what  power  in  us 
resides.  Let  this  inspire  us  that  we  have  the  loftiest 
cause  of  the  age  for  our  own,  that  we  are  helping  to 
pave  the  way  for  a  stronger  and  freer  and  happier 
race.  For  by  so  laboring,  alone  can  we  feel  that  our 
life  has  a  meaning  under  the  sky  and  the  sacred 
stars. 

The  year  in  which  we  have  entered  upon  our 


l66  CREED   AND   DEED. 

journey  is  passing  away.  To-night  when  the  mid- 
night bells  send  forth  their  clamorous  voices,  we 
shall  greet  the  new  year,  and  the  work  it  brings. 
No  peaceful  task  dare  we  expect,  but  something  of 
good  accomplished  may  it  see. 

"  Ring  out  wild  bells  to  the  wild  sky, 
The  flying  cloud,  the  frosty  light, 
The  year  is  dying  in  the  night, 
Ring  out  wild  bells  and  let  him  die. 

**  Ring  out  the  old,  ring  in  the  new. 
Ring  happy  bells  across  the  snow. 
The  year  is  going,  let  him  go, 
Ring  out  the  false,  ring  in  the  true." 


X. 


THE  FIRST  ANNIVERSARY  DISCOURSE. 

It  is  May,  the  gladdest  season  of  the  year.  Life 
is  in  the  breezes,  Hfe  in  the  vernal  glory  of  the  fields, 
life  in  the  earth  and  in  the  skies.  Of  old,  men  were 
wont  to  go  forth  at  this  time  into  the  forest,  to 
wreath  the  fountains  with  garlands,  to  cover  their 
houses  with  green  branches,  with  songs  and  dances 
to  celebrate  the  triumph  of  the  Spring.  Happy 
festivals,  happy  omens. 

A  year  has  now  passed  since  we  began  our  work, 
and  for  many  months  we  have  met  in  this  hall  week 
after  week.  We  have  reached  the  first  resting  place 
upon  our  journey,  and  it  behooves  us  to  look  back 
once  more  upon  the  path  we  have  travelled,  and 
forward  into  the  yet  untried  future  that  awaits  us. 

What  was  it  that  induced  us  to  enter  upon  so 
perilous  and  for  many  reasons  so  uncertain  an  enter- 
prise ? 

We  felt  a  great  need.  Religion  which  ought  to 
stand  for  the  highest  truth,  had  ceased  to  be  true  to 
us.  We  saw  it  at  war  with  the  highest  intelligence 
of  the  day ;  religion  and  conscience  also  seemed  no 


l68  CREED  AND  DEED. 

longer  inseparably  connected,  as  they  should  be. 
We  saw  that  millions  are  annually  lavished  upon 
the  mere  luxuries  of  religion,  gorgeous  temples, 
churches  and  on  the  elaborate  apparatus  of  salva- 
tion ;  we  could  not  but  reflect  that  if  one  tithe  of 
the  s  ums  thus  set  apart  were  judiciously  expended 
upon  the  wants  of  the  many  who  are  famishing, 
distress  might  often  be  relieved,  sickness  averted, 
and  crime  confined  within  more  narrow  boundaries. 
We  saw  around  us  many  who  had  lapsed  from  their 
ancient  faith  but  still  preserved  the  outward  show  of 
conformance,  encouraged  in  so  equivocal  a  course, 
by  the  advice  and  example  of  noted  leaders  in  the 
churches  themselves.  We  saw  that  the  great  tides 
of  being  are  everywhere  sweeping  mankind  on  to 
larger  achievements  than  were  known  to  the  past ; 
only  within  the  churches  all  is  still  and  motionless ; 
only  within  the  churches  the  obsolete  forms  of  cen- 
turies ago  are  retained,  or  if  concessions  to  the 
present  are  made,  they  are  tardy,  ungracious  and 
insufficient.  We  beheld  that  the  essentials  of  relig- 
ion are  neglected,  even  while  its  accessories  are 
observed  with  greater  punctiliousness  than  ever. 

We  were  passing  moreover  through  a  period  of 
momentous  import  in  our  country's  history.  The 
nation  had  just  entered  upon  the  second  century  of 
its  existence,  and  the  great  recollections  of  what  the 
fathers  had  done  and  designed  for  the  republic,  were 


THE  FIRST  ANNIVERSARY  DISCOURSE.         1 69 

fresh  in  our  minds.  We  recalled  the  memorable 
words  of  Washington  in  his  first  inaugural  address : 
**  That  the  national  policy  would  be  laid  in  the  pure 
and  immutable  principles  of  private  morality."  But 
we  were  startled  to  observe  how  greatly  recent 
events  had  falsified  these  hopes  and  felt  it  our  duty, 
within  our  own  limited  sphere,  to  restore  something 
of  that  noble  simplicity,  something  of  that  high 
fidelity  to  righteousness  which  it  is  said  adorned  the 
earlier  days,  and  on  which  alone  the  fortunes  of  the 
state  can  rest  securely  hereafter. 

Then  also  the  question,  how  best  to  educate  the 
children  to  a  worthy  life,  confronted  us.  The  doc- 
trines of  religion  as  commonly  interpreted,  we  could 
no  longer  impart  to  them  ;  did  we  attempt  to  do  so, 
they  would  be  likely  to  discard  them  in  later  years, 
and  would  in  the  mean  time  be  seriously  injured  in 
their  moral  estate  by  the  struggle  and  its  probable 
issue.  On  the  other  hand  we  were  aware  that  the 
temptations  which  surround  the  young  in  this  com- 
plex and  highly  wrought  civilization  of  ours,  are  pecu- 
liarly dangerous  and  alluring,  and  by  all  the  holiest 
instincts  of  humanity,  we  conceived  ourselves  bound 
to  provide  more  effectively  for  their  moral  welfare. 
A  few  of  us  therefore  took  counsel  how  these  objects 
might  be  attained,  and  we  determined  to  take  a  step 
in  a  new  direction.  We  did  not  conceal  from  our- 
selves the  difficulties  that  would  attend  what  we  were 
8 


I/O  CREED  AND   DEED. 

about  to  undertake.  We  might  expect  honest  op- 
position. There  would  be  no  need  to  shrink  from 
that.  We  might  expect  misconstruction,  uninten- 
tioned  or  with  malice  aforethought ;  we  might  ex- 
pect also  cold  comfort  from  those  illiberal  liberals, 
who  are  eager  enough  to  assert  the  principles  of  free- 
dom for  themselves,  but  relax  alike  their  principles 
and  their  tempers  when  the  limits  are  transcended 
which  they  have  themselves  reached,  and  which, 
on  this  account,  they  arbitrarily  set  up  as  the 
barriers  of  future  progress.  There  were  other  ob- 
stacles inherent  in  the  nature  of  the  work  itself.  But 
all  these  weighed  lightly  in  the  scales,  when  opposed 
to  the  stern  conviction,  that  there  are  certain  hide- 
ous shams  allowed  to  flourish  in  our  public  life  ; 
that  there  are  certain  great  truths  which  ought  to  be 
brought  home  with  new  energy  to  the  conscience  of 
the  people. 

Upon  what  platform  could  we  unite.  To  formu- 
late a  new  creed  was  out  of  the  question.  However 
comprehensive  in  its  statements  it  might  be,  nay 
though  it  had  been  the  creed  of  absolute  negation, 
from  which  indeed  we  are  far  removed,  it  would 
never  have  combined  our  efforts  in  permanent  union. 
And  yet  it  was  plain  that  to  be  strong  and  to  exert 
influence,  we  must  effect  a  firm,  cordial,  enthusiastic 
agreement  upon  some  great  principle.  The  weak- 
ness of  the  Liberal  Party  had  hitherto  been,  as  we 


THE  FIRST  ANNIVERSARY  DISCOURSE.         17I 

knew,  its  dread  of  organization.  It  ensured  thereby 
for  its  members  a  greater  measure  of  freedom  than 
is  elsewhere  known,  but  it  purchased  this  advantage 
at  an  immense  expense  of  practical  influence  and 
coherency.  Its  forces  are  scattered,  and  in  every 
emergency,  it  finds  itself  paralyzed  for  want  of  unity 
in  its  own  ranks.  The  Catholic  Church  has  pursued 
the  opposite  policy,  and  presents  the  most  notable 
instance  of  its  successful  prosecution.  It  is  so  for- 
midable, mainly  because  of  its  splendid  scheme  of 
organization,  and  the  high  executive  ability  of  its 
leaders.  But  its  power  is  maintained  at  a  complete 
sacrifice  of  freedom.  Could  we  not  secure  both  ? 
Could  we  not  be  free  and  strong?  This  was  the 
problem  before  us,  and  it  seemed  to  us  we  could. 

What  the  exigencies  of  the  modern  age  demand, 
more  than  aught  else,  is  a  new  movement  for  the 
moral  elevation  of  the  race.  Now  the  basic  facts  of 
man's  moral  nature,  though  insufficiently  illustrated 
in  practice,  are  universally  admitted  among  civilized 
human  beings.  Concerning  them  there  is  and  can  be 
no  dispute.  Here  then  appeared  the  solid  principle 
of  our  union.  The  moral  ideal  would  point  the  way 
of  safety,  the  moral  ideal  would  permit  us  to  preserve 
the  sacred  right  of  individual  differences  intact,  and 
yet  to  combine  with  our  fellow-men  for  the  loftiest 
and  purest  ends.  Taking  the  term  creed  therefore 
in  its  widest    application,  we  started  out  with  the 


172  CREED   AND   DEED. 

watchword,  Diversity  in  the  Creed,  Unanimity  in  the 
Deed.  This  feature,  if  any  at  all,  lends  character  to 
our  movement,  and  by  it  would  we  be  judged.  We 
claim  to  be  thereby  distinguished,  as  well  from  those 
religious  corporations  that  base  their  organization 
upon  definite  theological  dogmas,  as  also  from  the 
great  majority  of  Liberals  who  meet  for  purposes  of 
contemplation  and  poetical  aspiration,  in  that  we  put 
the  moral  element  prominently  forward  and  behold 
in  it  the  bond  of  our  union,  the  pledge  of  our  vi- 
tality. 

But  at  the  very  threshold  of  our  enterprise,  we 
were  met  by  the  objection  that  our  main  premise  is 
false;  that  morality  is  impossible  without  dogma, 
and  that  in  neglecting  the  one  we  were  virtually 
neutralizing  our  efforts  toward  the  other.  It  became 
our  first  and  most  serious  task  therefore  to  show  the 
futility  of  this  objection,  and  to  make  clear  by  an 
appeal  to  philosophy  and  history  that  the  claims  of 
dogma  are  conditional,  while  the  dictates  of  morality 
are  imperative.  Then,  having  established  the  priority 
and  supremacy  of  the  moral  law,  to  examine  what 
manner  of  substitute  the  ethical  ideal  can  offer  us 
to  replace  the  offices  of  the  doctrinal  religions ; 
what  are  the  hopes  it  holds  out,  what  its  conso- 
lations, what  it  can  give  us  for  the  priesthood  and 
the  church.  With  this  task  we  have  been  occupied 
during  the  year  that  has  gone  by,  and  now,  at  the 


THE  FIRST  ANNIVERSARY  DISCOURSE.         1 73 

close,  we  propose  to  review  once  more,  the  chief 
steps  which  we  have  taken  in  the  course  of  our 
enquiry. 

We  discussed  in  the  first  place  the  doctrine  of 
immortality,  and  some  of  the  main  arguments  upon 
which  it  is  commonly  founded. 

We  next  proceeded  to  take  up  the  study  of  the 
Hebrew  Bible;  for  it  is  evident  that  so  long  as  this 
book  is  clothed  with  infallible  authority,  arguments 
based  on  fact  and  logic  avail  nothing,  and  reason  is 
helpless  before  any  random  scriptural  quotation. 
We  examined  the  composition  of  the  work :  we 
learned  that  many  of  those  portions  that  are 
esteemed  most  ancient,  are  of  comparatively  recent 
origin  ;  that  the  text  is  studded  with  discrepancies, 
and  that  the  marks  of  savage  and  cruel  customs 
such  as  the  offering  of  human  sacrifices  to  the  Deity, 
are  still  clearly  indented  on  the  sacred  volume. 
The  conclusion  followed  that  a  book  so  full  of  con- 
tradiction, so  deeply  tinged  with  the  evidence  of 
human  fallibility,  could  not  have  been  the  work  of  a 
divine  author.  The  inspiration  theory  being  thus 
divested  of  its  support,  we  considered  how  baneful 
^liad  been  its  influence  on  the  course  of  human 
history  ;  how  it  had  retarded  the  progress  of  the 
Jews  among  whom  it  arose  ;  how  it  had  checked 
the  intellectual  development  of  Europe,  how  it  had 
hampered  the  advancement  of  science ;  how  it  had 


174  CREED  AND   DEED. 

offered  a  specious  plea  for  the  despotism  of  kings, 
and  of  the  holy  Inquisition ;  how  in  our  own  days 
it  had  become  in  the  hands  of  the  Southern  slave- 
holders a  most  formidable  means  of  perpetuating 
their  infamous  scheme  of  oppression.  We  con- 
cluded that  whatever  is  false  and  worthless  in  the 
book  we  should  feel  at  liberty  to  reject,  while  what 
IS  great  and  holy  would  not  therefore  become  less 
great  or  less  holy  to  us,  because  it  was  proven  to  be 
man's  work,  man's  testimony  to  the  divine  possi- 
bilities inherent  in  the  human  soul. 

We  went  on  striving  to  penetrate  more  deeply 
the  origin  of  that  mysterious  power  which  we  call 
religion.  To  us  it  appeared  that  the  feeling  of  the 
sublime  is  the  root  of  the  religious  sentiment  in  man. 
That  the  Vedahs,  Avesta,  Koran,  Bible  are  the 
songs  of  the  nations  on  the  theme  of  the  infinite ; 
and  that  the  moral  ideal,  whether  we  endow  it  with 
personality  or  not,  presents  to  us  the  highest  type 
of  sublimity  and  is  the  sole  object  worthy  of  religious 
reverence. 

**  Who  dare  express  him 
And  who  profess  him 
Saying,  *  I  believe  in  him?* 
Who  feeling,  seeing,  deny  his  being 
Saying  I  believe  him  not  ? 

••  Call  it  then  what  thou  wilt 
Call  it  bliss,  heart,  love,  God ; 
I  have  no  name  to  give  it. 
Feeling  is  all  in  all. 
The  name  is  sound  and  smoke.** 


THE  FIRST  ANNIVERSARY  DISCOURSE.         1 75 

We  maintained  lastly,  that  the  entrance  of  the 
moral  into  the  sphere  of  religion  has  endowed 
the  latter  with  whatever  excellence  it  now  pos- 
sesses. 

We  showed  in  another  course  of  lectures,  that 
every  great  religious  movement  has  been  in  the 
essence,  a  protest  against  the  formalism  and  mock 
holiness  of  its  time,  and  derived  its  vital  impulses 
from  the  moral  elements  with  which  it  was  suffused. 
We  instanced  the  case  of  monotheism,  which,  as  we 
believe,  arose  in  the  struggle  of  the  prophets  against 
the  immoral  rites  of  Baal :  We  mentioned  Buddha, 
the  reformer  of  the  Hindoos,  whose  sermon  of  un- 
selfishness won  for  him  the  affections  of  the  people. 
We  referred  on  frequent  occasions  to  the  fact  that 
Christianity  hkewuse  triumphed  because  of  the  hu- 
manity of  Jesus:  because  he  was  the  Master  of 
meekness;  because  his  gospel  was  a  gospel  for  the 
poor.  The  result  of  all  which  was  to  confirm  the 
priority  of  morality,  and  to  show  that  it  is  indeed 
the  source  of  whatever  is  durable  and  valuable  in 
the  Creeds. 

Toward  the  end  of  February  the  two  hundredth 
anniversary  of  the  death  of  Benedict  Spinoza, 
afforded  us  a  welcome  opportunity  to  dwell  upon 
the  life  and  philosophy  of  that  illustrious  thinker. 

Later  on,  we  endeavored  to  comprehend  the 
causes  which  have  produced  that  remarkable  change 


1/6  CREED  AND   DEED. 

the  religious  opinions  of  modern  men,  that  is  daily 
becoming  more  widely  apparent.  We  found  them  to 
be  the  critical  investigation  of  the  Bible,  the  pro- 
gress of  the  natural  sciences,  and  indirectly,  the  in- 
fluence of  commerce  and  of  industry.  We  attempted 
to  set  forth  how  the  introduction  of  machinery  be- 
came the  means  of  fostering  the  growth  of  scepticism 
even  among  those  classes  to  whom  the  arguments 
of  scholars  and  men  of  science  do  not  appeal.  We 
spoke  of  the  enlightenment  of  the  masses,  and  con- 
sidered the  theory  of  those  who  hold  that  a  religion, 
even  when  it  is  found  to  be  false,  should  still  be 
maintained  as  a  salutary  curb  upon  the  passions  of 
the  multitude.  We  insisted  that  this  view  of  reli- 
gion is  as  unsound  as  it  is  degrading  ;  that  while  all 
men  may  not  be  capable  of  the  highest  order  of 
intellectual  action,  all  men  are  capable  of  heart  good- 
ness, and  goodness  is  the  better  part  of  religion  ;  that 
a  generous  confidence  is  the  highest  principle  of 
education,  and  that  to  trust  men  is  the  surest  means 
of  leading  them  to  respond  to  our  confidence;  that 
we  should  cease  therefore  to  preach  the  depravity  of 
human  nature  and  preach  rather  the  grandeur  which 
is  possible  to  human  nature ;  that  in  freedom  alone 
can  we  become  worthy  of  being  free. 

And  again  in  a  distinct  group  of  lectures  we 
sought  to  unfold  our  conception  of  the  New  Ideal, 
and  to  point  out   that   which   distinguishes  it  from 


THE  FIRST  ANNIVERSARY  DISCOURSE.         1 77 

what  has  gone  before.  We  spoke  of  its  appeal  to 
the  higher  nature,  of  its  teachings  concerning  the 
Infinite  within  ourselves.  We  spoke  of  the  priests 
that  shall  do  its  service ;  of  the  solace  it  affords  us  by 
its  summons  to  larger  duties;  of  the  ethical  schools 
that  shall  be  erected  for  its  culture ;  of  the  manner 
in  which  women  may  be  prepared  to  aid  in  its  pro- 
paganda ;  lastly  of  the  form  which  it  may  assume  in 
the  future,  in  our  discourse  on  the  Order  of  the  Ideal. 
Thus  far  have  we  proceeded.  We  issued  our 
appeal,  at  first,  as  men  uncertain  what  the  fortunes 
of  their  enterprise  might  be.  But  while  we  avowed 
it  to  be  an  experiment,  we  were  deeply  convinced 
that  it  was  an  experiment  which  deserved  to  be 
tried.  And  more  and  more  as  week  followed  week, 
the  response  from  your  side  came  back  full  and  cor- 
dial ;  and  more  and  more  as  the  scope  and  the  ulti- 
mate tendencies  of  our  work  were  developed,  new 
friends  came  to  us  whom  we  had  not  known,  and  it 
became  apparent  that  there  is  a  deep,  downright 
purpose  in  your  midst  which  will  form  a  bond  of 
union  for  us  that  shall  not  easily  be  snapped  asun- 
der. Until  at  last  after  a  period  had  gone  by,  you 
thought  it  time  to  exchange  your  temporary  organi- 
zation for  one  more  stable,  and  you  declared  to  all 
who  might  be  interested  in  learning  it,  that  it  is  your 
intention  and  your  hope  to  become  a  permanent 
institution  in  this  community. 
8* 


178  CREED   AND   DEED. 

We  have  made  a  beginning  only.  If  we  look 
ahead,  dangers  and  difficulties  still  lie  thickly  on 
our  path.  The  larger  work  is  still  before  us.  But 
we  will  confide  in  the  goodness  of  our  cause,  and 
believe  that  if  it  be  good  indeed,  in  the  end  it  must 
succeed. 

The  country  in  which  we  live  is  most  favorable 
for  such  experiments  as  ours.  There  are  lands  of 
older  culture,  and  men  there  of  wider  vision  and 
maturer  wisdom,  but  nowhere,  as  in  America,  is  a 
truth  once  seen,  so  readily  applied,  nowhere  do  even 
the  common  order  of  men  so  feel  the  responsibihty 
for  what  transpires,  and  the  impulse  to  see  the  best 
accomplished.  Here  no  heavy  hand  of  rulers 
crushes  the  incipient  good.  When  the  Pilgrims  set 
out  on  their  voyage  across  the  unknown  Atlantic, 
Robinson,  their  pastor,  their  leader,  addressed  them 
once  more  before  they  embarked,  and  in  that 
solemn  hour  of  parting,  warned  them  against  the 
self-sufficiency  of  a  false  conservatism,  and  dedicated 
them  and  the  new  states  they  might  found,  to  the 
increase  and  the  service  of  larger  truths.  To  larger 
truths  America  is  dedicated. 

O,  if  it  were  thine,  America,  America  that  hast 
given  political  liberty  to  the  world,  to  give  that 
spiritual  liberty  for  which  we  pant,  to  break  also 
those  spiritual  fetters  that  load  thy  sons  and  daugh- 
ters!    All     over    this    land    thousands    are    search- 


THE  FIRST  ANNIVERSARY  DISCOURSE.         1 79 

ing  and  struggling  for  the  better,  they  know  not  what. 
Oh  that  we  might  aid  them  in  the  struggle,  and 
they  us ;  and  the  hearts  of  many  be  knit  together 
once  more  in  a  common  purpose  that  would  lift 
them  above  their  sordid,  weary  cares,  and  ennoble 
their  lives  and  make  them  glorious !  The  crops  are 
waiting ;  may  the  reapers  come  1 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX. 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  HEBREW  RELIGION. 

**  Dans  ropinion  du  peuple  pour  qui  ces  livres  ont  ete  ecrits  le  point  capital 
et  essential  n'est  certes  pas  la  narration  historique,  mais  bien  la  legislation  et 
I'edification  religieuse."  * 

In  1795,  Frederick  Augustus  Wolf  published  a  modest  oc- 
tavo volume  entitled  "  Prolegomena  to  Homer,"  from  w^hose 
appearance  is  dated  the  beginning  of  a  new  era  of  historic  criti- 
cism. The  composition  of  the  poems  of  Homer  formed  its 
subject.  For  wellnigh  twenty  years  the  author  had  collected 
evidence,  weighed  arguments,  and  patiently  tested  his  results 
by  constant  revision.  His  own  wishes  were  engaged  on  the 
side  of  the  unity  of  the  great  Grecian  epic.  But  the  results 
of  his  researches  continued  to  point  in  the  opposite  direction, 
and  at  last  his  earnest  devotion  to  truth  compelled  him  to  adopt 
a  theory  the  soundness  of  whose  construction  seemed  to  be  no 
longer  questionable.  He  was  thus  worthy  to  become  the 
"  founder  of  the  science  of  philology  in  its  present  significance."  * 

The  influence  of  Wolf's  discovery  was  not  confined  to  the 
study  of  classic  literature  only.  It  quickly  radiated  through  every 
department  of  history.  "In  every  singing  age,"  he  said,  "a 
single  sasculum  is  almost  like  a  single  man.     It  is  all  one  mind, 

*  "  In  the  estimation  of  the  people  for  whom  these  books  were 
written,  the  capital,  essential  point  surely  was,  not  the  historic  narra- 
tive, but  rather  legislation  and  religious  edification."  (N5ldeke, 
*  Histoire  Litt^raire  de  I'Ancien  Testament,"  p.  19.) 

*Bonitz,  "  Ueberden  Ursprungder  Horaerischen  Gedichte,"  p.  it. 


1 84  APPENDIX. 

one  soul."*  This  conception  involved  a  new  social  law,  and 
radically  altered  the  current  opinions  concerning  the  relation  ot 
individual  effort  to  the  larger  forces  that  affect  the  development 
of  nations.  The  creative  energy  of  remarkable  minds  was  not, 
indeed,  lessened  in  importance,  but  spontaneity,  in  this  connec- 
tion, acquired  a  new  meaning  ;  and  for  the  Deus  ex  7nachi7ta  of 
the  olden  time  was  substituted  the  cumulative  force  of  centuries 
of  progressive  advancement,  culminating,  it  is  true,  at  last  in  the 
triumphant  synthesis  of  genius.  The  commotion  which  the 
Wolfian  theory  has  stirred  up  in  the  literary  world  is  largely  due 
to  the  wide  range  of  ideas  which  it  affected.  Yet  it  was  itself 
but  a  part  of  that  general  movement  which,  toward  the  close  of 
the  last  centur)',  became  conspicuous  in  its  effects  on  every  field 
of  human  inquiry.  Everywhere  the  shackles  of  authority  were 
thrown  off,  and,  in  place  of  blindly  accepting  the  testimony  of 
the  past,  men  turned  to  investigate  for  themselves.  A  new 
principle  of  research  was  everywhere  acknowledged,  a  new 
method  was  created,  and  science,  natural  and  historical,  entered 
upon  that  astonishing  career  of  discovery  whose  rich  promise 
for  the  future  we  have  but  begun  to  anticipate.^ 

To  the  impetus  given  by  Wolf,  and  to  the  new-born  spirit  of 
science  which  he  carried  into  the  sphere  of  philology,  we  owe 
among  other  valuable  results  the  beginnings  of  a  more  critical 
inquiry  into  the  records  of  the  ancient  Hebrew  religion.  Indeed, 
the  author  of  the  **  Prolegomena"  himself  clearly  foresaw 
the  influence  which  his  book  was  destined  to  exert  on  Hebrew 

*  In  a  letter  given  in  Korte's  "  Leben  und  Studien  F.  A  Wolfs." 
i.,  p.  307. 

2  Scientific  pursuits  are  distinguished  from  others,  not  by  the 
material,  but  by  the  method  of  knowledge.  The  mere  collection  of 
data,  however  multiplied  in  detail,  however  abstruse  the  subjects  to 
which  they  may  refer,  does  not  of  itself  deserve  the  name  of  science. 
The  term  properly  appHes  only  when  phenomena  are  placed  in  causal 
relation,  and  the  laws  which  govern  their  development  are  traced. 
Measured  by  this  standard,  every  attempt  to  explain  the  growth  of 
human  thought  and  institutions,  and  to  elucidate  the  laws  which  have 
acted  in  the  process  of  their  evolution,  has  a  just  claim  to  be  classed 
under  the  head  of  scientific  inquiry. 


APPENDIX.  185 

studies.  In  a  letter,  from  which  we  have  already  quoted  above, 
he  says  :  "  The  demonstration  that  the  Pentateuch  is  made  up 
of  unequal  portions,  that  these  are  the  products  of  different  cen- 
turies, and  that  they  were  put  together  shortly  after  the  time  of 
Solomon,  may,  ere  long,  be  confidently  expected.  I  should  my- 
self be  willing  to  undertake  such  an  argument  without  fear,  for 
nowhere  do  we  find  any  ancient  witness  to  guarantee  the  author- 
ship of  the  Pentateuch  to  Moses  himself."  ^ 

The  prediction  embodied  in  these  words  soon  came  true.  A 
host  of  competent  scholars  took  up  the  study  of  the  Hebrew 
Bible,  and,  profiting  by  Wolfs  example  and  suggestions,  ap- 
plied to  its  elucidation  the  same  careful  methods,  the  same 
scrupulous  honesty  of  interpretation,  that  had  proved  so  suc- 
cessful in  the  realm  of  classical  philology.  Theologians  by  pro- 
fession, they  set  aside  their  predilections,  and  placed  the  ascer- 
tainment of  the  truth  above  all  other  interests.  They  believed 
in  the  indestructible  vitality  of  religion,  and  were  willing  to  ad- 
mit the  full  light  of  criticism  upon  the  scriptural  page,  confident 
that  any  loss  would  be  temporary  only,  the  gain  permanent.  In 
the  course  of  their  researches  they  arrived,  among  others,  at  the 
following  important  conclusions  : 

That  the  editor  of  the  Pentateuch  had  admitted  into  his  vol- 
ume several  accounts  touching  the  main  facts  of  early  Hebrew 
history  ;  that  these  accounts  are  often  mutually  at  variance ; 
that  minute  analysis  and  careful  comparison  alone  can  lead  to 
an  approximately  true  estimate  of  their  comparative  value  ;  and, 
lastly,  that  the  transmission  of  historical  information  had  in  no 
wise  been  the  object  of  the  Hebrew  writers.  The  history  of 
their  people  served,  it  is  true,  to  illustrate  certain  of  their  doc- 
trines concerning  the  divine  government  of  the  world,  and 
especially  the  peculiar  relations  of  the  Deity  to  the  chosen  race  ; 
but  it  was  employed  much  in  the  sense  of  a  moral  tale,  being 
designed,  not  to  convey  facts,  but  to  enforce  lessons.  Had  the 
acceptance  of  any  particular  scheme  of  Hebrew  history  been 
deemed  essential  to  the  integrity  of  religious  belief,  the  3ible, 
they  argued,  would  certainly  not  have  included  discrepant 
accounts  of  that  history  in  its  pages.     In  the  light  of  this  new 

*  Letter  in  KcJrte's  '*  Leben  und  Studien  F.  A.  Wolf  b,"  i.,  p.  309. 


1 86  APPENDIX. 

insight,  it  seemed  advisable  to  draw  a  distinction  between  the 
biblical  narrative  proper  and  the  doctrines  which  it  was  designed 
to  illustrate.  The  latter  belong  to  the  province  of  faith,  and 
their  treatment  may  be  left  to  the  expounders  of  faith.  The 
former  is  a  department  of  general  history,  and  in  dealing  with 
it  we  are  at  liberty  to  apply  the  same  canons  of  criticism  that 
obtain  in  every  other  department,  without  fearing  to  trespass 
upon  sacred  ground.  It  is  our  purpose  in  the  following  pages 
to  present  some  of  the  more  interesting  results  that  have  been 
reached  in  the  study  of  the  Pentateuch,  so  far  as  they  illustrate 
the  evolution  of  religious  ideas  among  the  Hebrews.  We  shall 
begin  by  summarizing  a  few  instances  of  discrepant  testimony 
to  introduce  our  subject,  and,  in  particular,  to  show  how  little 
the  ordinary  purposes  of  history  have  been  considered  in  the 
composition  of  the  biblical  writings  ;  how  little  the  bare  trans- 
mission of  facts  was  an  object  with  the  sacred  authors.^ 

The  Scriptures  open  with  two  divergent  accounts  of  the  crea- 
tion. In  Genesis  i.,  the  work  of  creation  proceeds  in  two  grand 
movements,  including  the  formation  of  inanimate  and  animate  Na- 
ture respectively.^  On  the  first  day  a  diffused  light  is  spread  out 
over  chaos.  Then  are  made  the  firmament,  the  dry  earth,  the 
green  herbs,  and  fruit-bearing  trees  ;  on  the  fourth  day  the  great 
luminaries  are  called  into  being ;  on  the  fifth,  the  fishes  and 
birds  of  the  air  ;  on  the  sixth,  the  beasts  of  the  field  ;  and,  lastly, 
crowning  all,  man,  his  Maker's  masterpiece.  The.  human  spe- 
cies enters  at  once  upon  its  existence  as  a  pair,  **  Male  and 
female  did  he  create  them."  In  the  second  chapter  the  same 
methodical  arrangement,  the  same  deliberate  progress  from  the 
lower  to  the  higher  forms  of  being,  is  not  observed.  Man,  his 
interests  and  responsibilities,  stand  in  the  foreground  of  the 
picture.  The  trees  of  the  field  are  not  made  until  after  Adam  ; 
and,  subsequently  to  them,  the  cattle  and  beasts.  Moreover, 
man  is  a  solitary  being.  A  comparison  between  his  lonely 
condition  and  the  dual  existence  of  the  remainder  of  the  animal 

*  Many  of  the  following  examples  are  familiarly  known.  A  few, 
however,  are  drawn  from  recent  investigations.  Compare,  especially, 
Kuenen,  "  The  Religion  of  Israel." 

*  Tuch's  "  Genesis,"  p.  3,  second  edition,  Halle,  1871. 


APPENDIX.  187 

world  leads  the  Deity  to  determine  upon  the  creation  of  woman. 
A  profound  slumber  then  falls  upon  Adam,  a  rib  is  taken  from 
his  side,  and  from  it  Eve  is  fashioned.*  We  may  observe  that  the 
name  Jehovah,  as  appertaining  to  the  Deity,  is  employed  in  the 
second  chapter,  while  it  is  scrupulously  avoided  in  the  first. 
The  recognition  of  this  distinction  has  led  to  further  discoveries 
of  far-reaching  importance,  but  too  complicated  in  their  nature 
to  be  here  detailed.  The  conflicting  statements  of  the  two  ac- 
counts, which  we  have  just  indicated,  have  induced  scholars  to 
regard  them  as  the  work  of  different  writers.  In  Genesis  iv.  we 
learn  that  in  the  days  of  Enoch,  Adam's  grandson,  men  began 
to  call  on  the  name  of  Jehovah ;  in  Exodus  vi.,  on  the  contrary, 
that  the  name  Jehovah  was  first  revealed  to  Moses,  being  un- 
known even  to  the  patriarchs. 

Gen.  xvi.,  Hagar  is  driven  from  her  home  by  the  jealousy  of 
her  mistress  ;  escapes  into  the  desert ;  beholds  a  vision  of  God 
at  a  well  in  a  wilderness.  Gen.  xxi.,  the  flight  of  Hagar  is  re- 
lated a  second  time.  The  general  scheme  of  the  narrative  is 
the  same  as  above ;  but  there  are  important  divergencies  of 
detail.  As  narrated  in  chapter  xvi.,  the  escape  took  place  im- 
mediately before  the  birth  of  Ishmael.  Fifteen  years  elapsed,* 
and  Ishmael,  now  approaching  the  years  of  maturity,  is  once 
more  driven  forth  from  the  house  of  Abraham.  But,  to  our 
surprise,  in  chapter  xxi.  the  lad  is  described  as  a  mere  infant ; 
he  is  carried  on  his  mother's  shoulders,  and  laid  away,  like  a 
helpless  babe,  under  some  bushes  by  the  wayside.  It  appears 
that  we  have  before  us  two  accounts  touching  the  same  event, 
agreeing  in  the  main  incidents  of  the  escape,  but  showing  a  dis- 
agreement of  fifteen  years  as  to  the  date  of  its  occurrence.  The 
narratives  are  distinguished  as  above  by  the  employment  of  dif- 

*  For  an  account  of  the  close  analogy  between  the  biblical  narra- 
tion and  the  Persian  story  of  Meshja  and  Meshjane,  their  temptation 
and  fall,  vide  ibid.  p.  40.  It  is  of  special  importance  to  note  that 
reference  to  the  account  of  Genesis  ii.  is  made  only  in  the  later  lit- 
erature of  the  Hebrews,  ibid.,  p.  42. 

'  Gen.  xvii.  25.  In  quoting  from  the  Old  Testament,  we  follow 
the  order  of  the  Hebrew  text. 


1 88  APPENDIX. 

ferent  names  of  the  Deity :  Jehovah  in  the  one  instance,  Elohim 
in  the  other. 

Gen.  xxxii.,  Jacob  at  the  fords  of  Jabbok,  after  wrestling  dur- 
ing the  night  with  a  divine  being,  receives  the  name  of  Israel. 
Gen.  XXXV.,  without  reference  to  the  previous  account,  the  name 
Israel  is  conferred  upon  Jacob  at  a  different  place  and  under 
different  circumstances. 

Gen.  xlix.,  the  dispersion  of  the  Levites  among  the  tribes  is 
characterized  as  a  punishment  and  a  curse.  They  are  to  be  for- 
ever homeless  and  fugitive.  Deuteronomy  xxxiii.  and  elsewhere, 
it  is  described  as  a  blessing.  The  Levites  have  been  scattered 
as  good  seed  over  the  land.  They  are  apostles,  commissioned 
to  propagate  Jehovah's  law. 

Passing  on  to  the  second  book  of  the  Pentateuch,  we  pause 
before  the  account  of  the  Revelation  on  Mount  Sinai,  beyond  a 
doubt  the  most  important  event  of  Israel's  ancient  history. 
Exodus  xxiv.  2,  Moses  alone  is  to  approach  the  divine  presence. 
Exod.  xix.  24,  Aaron  is  to  accompany  him.  Exod.  xxiv.  13. 
Aaron  is  to  remain  below  and  Joshua  is  to  go  in  his  stead. 
Again,  Exod.  xxxiii.  20,  instant  death  will  overtake  him  who 
beholds  God.  Exod.  xxiv.  9-1 1,  Moses,  Aaron,  two  of  his  sons, 
and  seventy  elders  of  Israel  **  ascended,  and  they  saw  the  God 
of  Israel.  .  .  .  Also,  they  saw  God,  and  did  eat  and  drink." 
Once  more,  Exod.  xxiv.  4-7,  Moses  himself  writes  down  the 
words  of  revelation  in  a  book  of  covenant.  Exod.  xxiv.  12,  not 
Moses  but  God  writes  them ;  and,  elsewhere,  **  Two  tables  of 
stone  inscribed  by  the  finger  of  God." 

Exod.  XX.  enjoins  the  observance  of  the  sabbath-day  as  a 
memorial  of  the  repose  of  the  Maker  of  heaven  and  earth  on  the 
sabbath  of  creation.  Deut,  v.,  the  fourth  commandment  is  en- 
joined because  of  the  redemption  of  Israel  from  Egyptian  bond- 
age. Exod.  xxxiv.,  a  new  version  of  the  decalogue,  differing  in 
most  respects  from  the  one  commonly  received,  is  promulgated.^ 
The  first  commandment  is  to  worship  no  strange  god  ;  the  sec- 
ond, to  make  no  graven  images  ;  the  third,  to  observe  the  feast 

*  Compare  De  Wette's  "Einleitung  in  das  alte  Testament" 
(Schrader's  edition),  p.  286,  note  53. 


APPENDIX.  189 

of  unleavened  bread ;  the  fourth,  to  deliver  the  first-born  unto 
Jehovah ;  the  fifth,  to  observe  the  sabbath,  etc. 

In  Exod.  XX.  we  read  that  the  guilt  of  the  fathers  will  be 
avenged  upon  the  children  down  even  to  the  third  and  fourth 
generation ;  in  Deut.  xxiv.,  the  children  shall  not  die  for  their 
fathers.     Every  one  for  his  own  sin  shall  die. 

In  Deut.  XXV.  the  marrying  of  a  deceased  brother's  wife  is 
under  certain  conditions  enjoined  as  a  duty.  In  Levit.  xviii.  it 
is  unconditionally  prohibited  as  a  crime. 

Exod.  xxxiii.,  Moses  removes  the  tabernacle  beyond  the  camp. 
Num.  ii.,  the  tabernacle  rests  in  the  very  heart  of  the  camp,  with 
all  the  tribes  of  Israel  grouped  round  about  it,  according  to  their 
standards  and  divisions. 

Num.  xvi.,  the  sons  of  Korah,  the  leader  of  the  great  Leviti- 
cal  sedition,  perish  with  their  father.  Num.  xxvi.,  the  sons  of 
Korah  do  not  perish.^ 

Of  the  forty  years  which  the  Israelites  are  said  to  have  dwelt 
in  the  desert,  not  more  than  two  are  covered  by  the  events  of  the 
narrative.  The  remainder  are  wrapped  in  dense  obscurity. 
There  is,  however,  a  significant  fact  which  deserves  mention  in 
this  connection.  The  death  of  Aaron  marks,  as  it  were,  the 
close  of  Israel's  journey.  Now,  while  in  Num.  xxxiii.  the  death 
of  the  high-priest  is  described  as  occurring  in  the  fortieth  year, 
in  Deut.  x.  it  is  actually  referred  to  the  second  year  of  the  Exo- 
dus.* 

A  brief  digression  beyond  the  borders  of  the  Pentateuch  will 

*  Num.  xxvi.  II.  Indeed,  had  the  sons  of  Korah  and  every  hu- 
man being  related  to  him  perished,  as  Num.  xvi.  avers,  how  could  we 
account  for  the  fact  that  Korah's  descendants  filled  high  offices  in  the 
Temple  at  Jerusalem  later  on  ?  The  celebrated  singer,  Heman,  him- 
self was  a  lineal  descendant  of  Korah.  To  the  descendants  of  Korah 
also  are  ascribed  the  following  Psalms  :  Ps.  xlii.,  xliv.-xlix.,  Ixxxiv., 
Ixxxv.,  Ixxxvii.,  Ixxxviii. 

*  In  connection  with  this  subject  it  is  of  interest  to  compare  Goe- 
the's argument  in  the  "  Westcistlicher  Divan  "  on  the  duration  of  the 
desert  journey.  Here,  as  in  so  many  other  instances,  the  intuitive 
perception  of  the  great  poet  anticipated  the  tardy  results  of  subse- 
quent investigation. 


igO  APPENDIX. 

show  that  the  conflict  of  testimony  which  we  have  thus  far  no- 
ticed, affecting  as  it  does  some  of  the  leading  events  of  ancient 
Hebrew  history,  does  not  diminish  as  we  proceed  in  the  narra- 
tive. In  I  Samuel  vii.  it  is  said  that  the  Philistines  ceased  to 
harass  the  land  of  Israel  all  the  days  of  Samuel.  Immediately 
thereupon  we  read  of  new  Philistine  incursions  more  direful 
than  ever  in  their  consequences.^  The  popular  proverb,  **  Is 
Saul  among  the  prophets  ?  "  is  variously  explained,  i  Sam.  x.  and 
xix.  Two  discrepant  accounts  are  given  of  Saul's  rejection  from 
the  kingdom,  i  Sam.  xiii.  and  xv. ;  of  David's  introduction  to 
Saul,  I  Sam.  xvi.  and  xvii.  The  charming  story  of  David's  en- 
counter with  the  giant  Goliath  told  in  i  Sam.  xvii.  is  contradicted 
in  2  Sam.  xxi.  19,  where,  not  David,  but  some  person  otherwise 
unknown  to  fame,  is  reported  to  have  slain  the  giant  Goliath, 
and  also  the  time,  place,  and  attendant  circumstances,  are  dif- 
ferently related.^ 

It  thus  appears  that  the  compiler  of  the  Pentateuch  has  ad- 
mitted a  variety  of  views,  not  only  on  the  ancient  history  of  his 
people,  but  also  on  the  general  subject  of  religion  and  morals, 
into  his  work ;  and  that  the  discordant  opinions  of  diverse  au- 
thors and  of  diverse  stages  of  human  progress  are  reflected  in 
its  pages.  It  is  the  monument  of  a  grand  religious  movement 
extending  over  many  centuries  of  gradual  development.  It  is 
the  image  of  a  nation's  struggles  and  growth.  As  contained  in  the 
books  of  the  Pentateuch,  the  Mosaic  religion  is  a  religious  mosaic. 

In  the  foregoing  sketch  we  have  observed  how  deep  a  mist 
of  uncertainty  hangs  over  the  earliest  period,  the  golden  age  of 
the  history  of  the  Hebrews.  All  is  in  a  state  of  flux,  and  what 
appeared  compact  and  coherent  at  a  distance  yields  to  our  touch 
upon  closer  contact.  To  gain  terra  finna^  let  us  turn  to  the 
period  which  immediately  succeeded  the  settlement  of  the  Isra- 
elites in  Palestine ;  a  period  in  which  the  outline  of  historical 
events  begins  to  assume  a  more  definite  and  tangible  shape. 

*  Compare  i  Sam.  vii.  13,  and  i  Sam.  xiii.  19. 

*  In  I  Chron.  xx.  5,  we  read,  "  the  brother  of  Goliath."  The  pur- 
pose of  the  change  is  clear,  and  accords  well  with  the  apologetical 
tendencies  of  the  author  of  Chronicles.  Vide  De  Wette,  "  Einlei- 
tung,"  etc.,  p.  370.     Geiger,  "  Urschrift." 


APPENDIX.  191 

It  was  a  dismal  and  sorrowful  age.  The  bonds  of  social 
order  were  loosened  ;  the  current  conceptions  of  the  Deity  and 
the  rites  of  his  worship  were  gross  and  often  degrading.  Mu- 
tual jealousies  kindled  the  firebrand  of  war  among  the  contend- 
ing clans.  Almost  the  whole  tribe  of  Benjamin  was  extirpated. 
Abimelech  slew  seventy  princes  upon  one  stone.  Lust  and 
treachery  ran  riot.  A  wilder  deed  has  never  been  chronicled  in 
the  annals  of  mankind  than  that  related  in  chapter  xix.  of  Judges, 
nor  ever  has  a  terrible  deed  been  more  terribly  avenged.  Now, 
looking  backward,  we  ask,  Is  it  to  be  believed  that  in  the  four- 
teenth century  B.  C.  not  only  the  leader  of  Israel,  but  also 
their  elders,  their  priests,  nay,  large  numbers  of  the  very  popu- 
lace, shared  in  the  most  exalted,  the  most  spiritual  conceptions 
of  God,  and  nourished  the  most  refined  sentiments  in  regard 
to  human  relationships,  while  immediately  thereupon,  and  cen- 
turies thereafter,  violence  and  bloodshed,  and  idolatry,  do  not 
cease  from  the  records  }  It  has  been  argued,  indeed,  that  the 
worship  of  idols  was  but  a  relapse  from  the  purity  of  a  preced- 
ing age ;  and  that,  though  the  tradition  of  the  Mosaic  time 
may  have  been  lost  in  the  succeeding  period  among  the  people 
at  large,  it  was  still  preserved  in  the  circle  of  a  select  few,  the 
judges.  King  David,  and  others.  These,  it  is  believed,  continued 
to  remain  faithful  disciples  of  the  great  lawgiver.  But  these 
very  men,  the  judges — King  David  himself — all  fall  immeasur- 
ably below  the  standard  that  is  set  up  in  the  Pentateuch.  If 
they  were  esteemed  the  true  representatives  of  the  national  re- 
ligion in  their  day,  if  the  very  points  in  which  they  transgressed 
the  provisions  of  the  Mosaic  code  are  distinguished  by  the  ap- 
proval of  God  and  man,  we  are  forced  to  conclude  that  that 
standard — by  which  they  stand  condemned — did  not  yet  exist ; 
that,  in  the  days  of  David,  the  laws  of  Moses,  as  we  now  have 
them,  were  as  yet  unwritten  and  unknown.  Let  us  illustrate 
this  important  point  by  a  few  examples  taken  from  the  records. 
Gideon  no  sooner  returns  from  victory  than  he  makes  a  golden 
idol  and  sets  it  up  for  worship.  Jephthah  slays  his  daughter  as 
an  offering  of  thanksgiving  to  Jehovah.  In  the  Pentateuch  the 
adoration  of  images  is  branded  as  the  gravest  of  offences. 
David  keeps  household  gods  in  his  own  home  (Sam.  xix).     In 


192  APPENDIX. 

the  Pentateuch,  on  its  opening"  page,  God  is  proclaimed  as  a 
pure  spirit,  maker  of  heaven  and  earth.  In  the  eyes  of  David 
(i  Sam,  xxvi.  19),  the  sway  of  Jehovah  does  not  extend  beyond 
the  borders  of  Palestine.^  In  the  Pentateuch  the  ark  of  the 
covenant  is  described  as  the  treasury  of  all  that  is  brightest  and 
best  in  the  worship  of  the  one  God.  None  but  the  consecrated 
priest  dare  approach  it,  and  even  he  only  under  circumstances 
calculated  to  inspire  peculiar  veneration  and  awe.  In  2  Sam. 
vi.,  David  abandons  the  ark  to  the  keeping  of  a  heathen  Phil- 
istine. In  an  early  age  of  culture,  when  fear  and  terror  in  the 
presence  of  superior  force  entered  largely  into  the  religious 
conceptions  of  the  Hebrews,  the  taking  of  the  census  was 
deemed  an  act  of  grave  transgression.  It  appeared  a  vaunting 
of  one's  strength  ;  it  seemed  to  indicate  a  defiant  attitude  toward 
the  loftier  power  of  the  Deity,  which  he  would  certamly  visit 
with  condign  punishment.  At  a  later  period  the  priesthood 
found  it  in  their  interest  to  override  these  scruples,  and  the  tak- 
ing of  the  census  became  an  affair  of  habitual  occurrence.  In 
the  last  chapter  of  Samuel  the  more  primitive  view  still  predom- 
inated. Seventy  thousand  Israelites  are  miserably  slain  to  atone 
fgr  King  David's  presumption  in  commanding  a  census  of  the 
people.  In  the  fourth  book  of  Moses,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
numbering  of  the  people  not  only  proceeds  without  the  slightest 
evil  resulting  therefrom,  but  at  the  express  command  of  God 
himself. 

In  the  book  of  Deuteronomy  the  service  of  Jehovah  is  said 
to  consist  mainly  in  the  practice  of  righteousness,  in  works  of 
kindness  toward  our  fellows,  in  sincere  and  holy  love  toward  the 
Deity,  who  is  represented  as  the  merciful  father  of  all  his  human 
children.  Second  Sam.  xxi.,  a  famine  comes  upon  the  land  of  Is- 
rael. The  anger  of  Jehovah  is  kindled  against  the  people.  To 
appease  him,  David  offers  sacrifice — human  sacrifice.  The  seven 
sons  of  Saul  are  slain,  and  their  bodies  kept  exposed  on  the  hill, 
"  in  sight  of  Jehovah,"  and  the  horrid  offering  z's  accepted,  and 
the   divine   wrath   is  thereby  pacified.*^     Truly,  in  the  age  of 

*  Banishment  being  described  as  a  transfer  of  allegiance  to  strange 
gods. 

^  It  is  important  to  note  that  the  seven  sons  of  Saul  were  sacrificed 


APPENDIX.  193 

David,  the  Hebrews  were  far,  far  removed  from  the  high  state 
of  culture  in  which  the  ideal  conception  of  religion  that  pervades 
Deuteronomy  became  possible.  And  long  after,  when  centuries 
had  gone  by  and  the  kingdom  of  Judah  was  already  approach- 
ing its  dissolution,  the  direful  practices  of  David's  reign  still  sur- 
vived, and  the  root  of  idolatry  had  not  been  plucked  from  the 
heart  of  the  people.  Still  do  we  hear  of  human  sacrifice  per- 
petrated in  the  midst  of  Jerusalem,  and  steeds  and  chariots 
dedicated  to  the  sun-god,  and  images  of  the  Phallus,  and  all  the 
abominations  of  sensual  worship,  filled  the  very  Temple  of 
Jehovah. 

But  in  the  meantime  a  new  force  had  entered  the  current 
of  Hebrew  history.  The  conviction  that  one  God,  and  he  an 
all-just,  almighty  being,  ruled  the  destinies  of  Israel,  began  to 
take  root.  In  the  eighth  century  B.  C.  authentic  records  prove 
that  monotheism,  as  a  form  of  religious  belief,  obtained,  at  least 
among  the  more  illustrious  members  of  the  prophetic  order. 
We  have  elsewhere  attempted  to  trace  the  causes  which  led  to 
the  rise  of  monotheism  at  this  particular  epoch,  and  can  do  no 
more  than  briefly  allude  to  them  here. 

When  the  mountaineers  of  Southern  Palestine,  after  cen- 
turies of  protracted  struggles,  had  secured  the  safe  possession 
of  individual  homes,  the  endearments  of  domestic  life  were  in- 
vested with  a  sanctity  in  their  eyes  never  before  known.  The 
attachment  of  the  Hebrew  toward  his  offspring  was  intensified  ; 
his  devotion  to  the  wife  of  his  bosom  became  purer  and  more 
enduring.  Now,  the  prevailing  forms  of  Semitic  religion  out- 
raged these  feelings  at  every  point.  The  gods  of  the  surround- 
ing nations  were  gods  of  pleasure  and  of  pain  ;  and  in  their 
worship  the  stern  practices  of  fanatic  asceticism  alternated  with 
the  wildest  orgies  of  sensual  enjoyment.  The  worship  of  Baal 
Moloch  demanded  the  sacrifice  of  children  ;  that  of  the  lasciv- 

in  the  beginning  of  the  barley-harvest.  This  circumstance  seems  to 
throw  light  on  the  primitive  mode  of  celebrating  the  Passover.  That 
the  rite  of  human  sacrifice  was  originally  connected  with  this  festival 
is  generally  acknowledged.  Vide^  e.  g.,  Exod.  xiii.,  2.  By  such 
ofiferings  it  was  intended,  no  doubt,  to  secure  the  favor  of  the  god 
during  the  continuance  of  the  harvest. 

9 


194  APPENDIX. 

ious  Baaltis  insulted  the  modesty  of  woman.  The  nobler  spirits 
among  the  Hebrews  rebelled  against  both  these  demands.  And, 
as  the  latter  were  put  forth  in  the  name  of  the  dominant  religion, 
the  inevitable  conclusion  followed  that  that  religion  itself  must  be 
radically  wrong.  The  spirit  of  opposition  thus  awakened  was 
aroused  into  powerful  activity  when,  in  the  days  of  Ahab,  the 
queen,  supported  by  an  influential  priesthood,  determined  to  in- 
troduce the  forms  of  Phoenician  religion  in  Israel  by  measures  of 
force.  The  royal  edicts  were  resisted,  but  for  a  while  the  rule 
of  the  stronger  prevailed.  The  leaders  of  the  opposition  were 
compelled  to  flee,  and,  avoiding  the  habitations  of  men,  to  take 
refuge  in  wild  and  solitary  places.  Thus  the  rupture  was 
widened  into  schism,  and  persecution  inflamed  the  zeal  and 
kindled  the  energies  of  that  new  order  of  men  of  whom  Elijah 
is  the  well-known  type. 

Through  their  agency  the  emotional  nature  of  the  Semitic 
race  now  found  expression  in  a  form  of  religious  worship  loftier 
by  far  than  any  that  had  ever  arisen  among  men.  If  Baal  was 
the  embodiment  of  Semitic  asceticism  and  Baaltis  the  type  of 
sensual  orgiastic  passion,  the  national  God  of  Israel  now  became 
the  type  of  a  nobler  emotion,  the  guardian  of  domestic  purity, 
the  source  of  sanctity,  the  ideal  Father.  It  is  indeed  the  image 
of  a  just  patriarch  that  fills  the  mind  and  wings  the  fancy  of  the 
eldest  prophets,  when  they  describe  the  nature  of  Jehovah,  their 
God.  Jehovah  is  the  husband  of  the  people.  Israel  shall  be  his 
true  and  loyal  spouse.  The  children  of  Israel  are  his  children. 
Unchastity  and  irreligion  are  synonymous  terms.  And  thus,  if 
we  err  not,  the  peculiar  feature  of  Hebrew  character,  their  faith- 
ful attachment  to  kith  and  kin,  the  strength  and  purity  of  their 
domestic  affections,  serves  to  explain  the  peculiar  character,  the 
origin  and  development  of  the  Hebrew  religion.  And  because 
the  essential  elements  of  the  new  religion  were  moral  elements 
it  could  not  tolerate  the  Nature-worship  of  the  heathens ;  and 
the  way  was  prepared  for  the  gradual  ascendency  of  the  purely 
spiritual  in  religion,  which  after  ages  of  gradual  progress  con- 
stituted the  last,  the  lasting  triumph  of  prophecy. 

After  ages  of  development !  For  we  are  not  to  suppose  that, 
in  the  centuries  succeeding  Hosea,  the  doctrines  of  the  prophetic 


APPENDIX.  1 95 

schools  had  become  in  any  sense  the  property  of  the  people  at 
large.  **  The  powers  that  be  "  were  arrayed  against  them,  and 
the  annals  of  the  kings  are  replete  with  evidence  of  their  suffer- 
ings. It  was  in  the  late  reign  of  Josiah  that  they  at  last  received 
not  only  the  countenance  of  the  reigning  monarch,  but  also  a 
decisive  influence  upon  the  direction  of  affairs.  In  that  reign  a 
scroll  was  found  in  the  temple  imbued  with  the  doctrine  of  the 
unity  of  God,  and  breathing  the  vigorous  spirit  of  the  prophets. 
In  it  was  emphasized  the  heart's  religion  in  preference  to  the 
empty  ceremonial  of  priestly  worship.  The  allegiance  of  the 
people  was  directed  toward  the  God  who  had  elected  them  from 
among  the  nations  of  the  earth,  and  dire  disaster  was  predicted 
in  case  of  disobedience.  When  brought  to  the  king  and  read  in 
his  presence,  he  was  powerfully  affected,  and  determined,  if  pos- 
sible, to  stem  the  tide  of  impending  ruin  by  such  salutary  meas- 
ures of  reform  as  the  injunctions  of  the  newly-found  Scripture 
seemed  most  urgently  to  call  for.  The  concurrence  of  many 
critics  has  identified  this  scroll,  written  and  published  at  or 
about  the  time  when  the  youthful  Josiah  succeeded  to  the  throne 
of  his  ancestors,  with  Deuteronomy,  the  fifth  of  the  books  of 
Moses.  It  differs  materially  from  the  more  recent  writings  of 
the  Pentateuch.  The  family  of  Aaron  are  not  yet  exclusively 
endowed  with  the  priesthood.  The  priests  are  all  Levites,  the 
Levites  all  priests.  There  are,  moreover,  other  vital  differences, 
into  which  the  limits  of  this  article  do  not  permit  us  to  enter.* 
The  date  of  the  composition  of  Deuteronomy  is  thus  referred  to 
the  closing  decades  of  the  seventh  century  B.  C.^ 

The  princes  who  succeeded  Josiah  fell  back  into  the  old 
course,  and  quite  undid  the  work  which  had  begun  with  such 
fair  promise.  Indeed,  little  permanent  good  was  to  be  hoped 
for  in  so  disordered  a  condition  of  political  affairs,  and  from  the 
degenerate  rulers  who  then  swayed  the  helm  of  state.     The  for- 

*  E.  g.,  the  rebellion  of  Korah  is  unknown  to  the  author  of  Deu- 
teronomy. 

^  The  language  of  Deuteronomy  attests  its  late  origin.  Sixty-six 
phrases  of  Deuteronomy  recur  in  the  writings  of  Jeremiah.  Vide 
Zunz,  Zeitschrift  der  Deutschen  Morgenldndischen  Gesellscha/t,  xxviii., 
p.  670. 


196  APPENDIX. 

tunes  of  the  kingdom  of  Judah  were  swiftly  declining,  and,  not 
fully  a  quarter  of  a  century  after  the  pious  Josiah  had  breathed 
his  last,  Nebuchadnezzar  burned  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem,  and 
carried  its  inhabitants  captive  to  Babylon. 

Heretofore,  with  but  a  brief,  brilliant  interlude,  idolatry  had 
been  the  court  religion  of  Judah.  Early  training,  long  usage, 
the  example  of  revered  ancestors,  had  endeared  its  forms  and 
symbols  to  the  affections  of  the  people.  Resistance  to  the  in- 
novating prophets  was  natural ;  men  being  then,  as  ever,  loath 
to  abandon  the  sacred  usages  which  had  come  down  to  them 
from  the  distant  generations  of  the  past.  But,  in  the  long  years 
of  the  captivity,  a  profound  change  came  over  the  spirit  of  the 
Hebrew  people ;  **  by  Babel's  streams  they  sat  and  wept;"  by 
Babel's  streams  they  recalled  the  memories  of  their  native  land, 
that  land  which  they  had  lost.  It  was  then  that  the  voices  of 
Jehovah's  messengers,  which  had  so  earnestly  warned  them  of 
the  approaching  doom,  recurred  to  their  startled  recollection. 
They  remembered  the  message  ;  they  beheld  its  fulfillment ;  the 
testimony  of  the  prophets  had  been  confirmed  by  events  ;  the 
one  God  to  whom  they  testified  had  revealed  his  omnipotence  in 
history;  and  with  ready  assent  the  exiles  promised  allegiance 
to  his  commandments  in  the  future.  The  love  of  country,  the 
dread  of  further  chastisement,  the  dear  hope  of  restoration,  com- 
bined to  win  them  to  the  purer  worship  of  their  God,  and,  in  the 
crucible  of  Babylon,  the  national  religion  was  purged  of  the  last 
dregs  of  heathendom. 

With  the  permission  of  Cyrus,  the  Jews  returned  to  Palestine 
and  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem  was  rebuilt.  The  question  now 
arose  in  what  forms  the  ceremonial  of  the  new  sanctuary  should 
be  conducted.  The  time-honored  festivals,  the  solemn  and  joy- 
ful convocations,  the  sacrifices  and  purifications  of  the  olden 
time,  were  all  more  or  less  infected  with  the  taint  of  paganism. 
Prophecy  would  have  none  of  them — prophecy,  free  child  of 
genius,  contemned  sacrifice,  denounced  the  priesthood,  even  the 
temple  and  its  ritual ;  ^  proclaimed  humbleness  and  loving-kind- 
ness as  the  true  service  in  which  Jehovah  takes  delight.  There 
was  formalism  on  the  one  hand,  idealism  on  the  other.     As  is 

*  Jeremiah  vii.  4  ;  Isaiah  Ixvi.  i  ;  Micah  vi.  6. 


APPENDIX.  197 

usual  in  such  cases,  when  the  time  had  arrived  for  turning  theory 
into  practice,  it  was  found  necessary  to  effect  a  compromise.  As 
Christianity  in  later  days  adopted  the  yule-tree  into  its  system, 
and  lit  the  lamps  of  the  heathen  festival  of  the  25th  of  December 
in  honor  of  the  nativity  of  its  founder,  so  the  leaders  of  the  Jews, 
in  the  fifth  century  before  our  era,  adopted  the  feasts  and  usages 
of  an  ancient  Nature-worship,  breathed  into  them  a  new  spirit, 
informed  them  with  a  loftier  meaning,  and  made  them  tokens, 
symbols  of  the  eternal  God.  The  old  foes  were  thus  reconciled  ; 
priesthood  and  prophecy  joined  hands,  and  were  thenceforth 
united.  As  an  offspring  of  this  union,  we  behold  a  new  code  of 
laws  and  prescriptions,  whose  marked  and  inharmonious  fearures 
at  once  betray  the  dual  nature  of  its  progenitors.  **  A  rough 
preliminary  draft,  as  it  were,"  of  this  code,  is  preserved  in  the 
book  of  Ezekiel,  composed  probably  about  the  middle  of  the  fifth 
century.  In  its  finished  and  final  shape,  it  forms  the  bulk  of  a 
still  later  work — of  Leviticus,  namely  the  third  of  the  books  of 
the  Pentateuch :  of  all  the  discoveries  of  criticism  none  more 
noteworthy,  none  we  are  permitted  to  consider  more  assured. 
What  lends  additional  certainty  to  the  result  is  the  circumstance 
that  it  was  reached  independently  by  two  of  the  most  esteemed 
scholars  of  our  day,  the  one  a  Professor  of  Theology  in  the 
University  of  Leyden,^  the  other  a  veteran  of  thought,  whose 
brow  is  wreathed  by  the  ripe  honors  of  more  than  fourscore 
years.*  Let  us  briefly  advert  to  the  line  of  argument  by  which 
this  astonishing  conclusion  was  reached  : 

The  author  of  the  book  of  Ezekiel  was  a  priest,  and  one  con- 
fessedly loyal  to  the  sanctuary  of  Jerusalem.  Now,  had  the  laws 
oi  the  Levitical  code,  which  minutely  describe  the  ritual  of  that 
sanctuary,  existed,  or  been  regarded  as  authoritative  in  his  day, 
he  could  not,  would  not  have  disregarded,  much  less  contra- 
dicted, their  provisions.  He  does  this,  and,  be  it  remarked,  in 
points  of  capital  importance.  In  chapter  xlv.  of  Ezekiel  are 
mentioned  the  great  festivals,  with  the  sacrifices  appropriate  to 
each ;  but  the  feast  of  Pentecost,  commanded  in  Leviticus,  is 
entirely  omitted  ;  also  that  of  the  eighth  day  of  tabernacles. 
The  second  of  the  daily  burnt-offerings,  upon  which  the  legis- 

*  Prof.  A.  Kuenen.  *  The  venerable  Dr.  Zunz,  of  Berlin. 


198  APPENDIX. 

lator  of  the  fourth  book  of  Moses  dwells  with  such  marked 
emphasis,  is  not  commanded.  The  order  of  sacrifices  appointed 
in  Ezekiel  is  at  variance  with  that  in  the  more  recent  code. 
Ezekiel  nowhere  mentions  the  ark  of  the  covenant.  According 
to  him,  the  new  year  begins  on  the  tenth  of  the  seventh  month, 
while  the  festival  of  the  trumpets,  ordained  in  Leviticus  for  the 
first  of  that  month  (the  present  new  year  of  the  Jews),  is  no- 
where referred  to.  We  are  not  to  suppose,  however,  that  the 
festivals,  the  ark,  etc.,  did  not  yet  exist  in  the  time  of  Ezekiel. 
They  existed,  no  doubt,  but  were  still  too  intimately  associated 
with  pagan  customs  and  superstitions  to  receive  or  merit  the 
countenance  of  a  prophetic  writer.  In  Leviticus  the  process  of 
assimilation  above  described  had  reached  its  climax.  The  new 
meaning  had  been  successfully  engrafted  upon  the  rites  and 
symbols  of  the  olden  time ;  and  they  were  thenceforth  freely 
employed.  The  legislation  of  the  Levitical  code  exhibits  the 
familiar  features  which  in  every  instance  mark  the  ascendency 
or  consolidation  of  the  hierarchical  order.'  The  lines  of  grada- 
tion and  distinction  between  the  members  of  the  order  among 
themselves  are  precisely  drawn  and  strictly  adhered  to.  The 
prerogatives  of  the  whole  order  as  against  the  people  are  fenced 
about  with  stringent  laws.  The  revenues  of  the  order  are 
largely  increased.  In  the  older  code  of  Deuteronomy,  the 
annual  tithes  were  set  apart  for  a  festival  occasion,  and  given 
over  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  people.  In  the  new  code,  the  hi- 
erarchy claims  the  tithes  for  its  own  use.  New  taxes  are  in- 
vented. The  best  portions  of  the  sacrificial  animal  are  reserved 
for  the  banquets  of  the  Temple.  The  first-bom  of  men  and 
cattle  belong  to  the  priesthood,  and  must  be  ransomed  by  the 
payment  of  a  sum  of  money.  In  no  period  prior  to  the  fifth 
century  B.  C.  was  the  hierarchy  powerful  enough  to  design  such 
laws.  At  that  time,  however,  when  in  the  absence  of  a  temporal 
sovereign  they,  with  the  high-priest  at  their  head,  were  the  ac- 
knowledged rulers  of  the  state,  they  were  both  prepared  to  con- 
ceive and  able  to  carry  them  into  effect.  The  language  of  Le- 
viticus contributes  not  a  little  to  betray  its  late  origin.^     The 

*  To  mention  only  a  single  instance,  ha  Shem  (meaning  the  name, 
i.  e.  the  ineffable  name  of  God)  was  not  employed  until  a  very  late 


APPENDIX.  199 

authorship  of  Moses  attributed  to  the  Levitical  code  is  symboh- 
cal.  The  name  of  Moses  is  utterly  unknown  to  the  elder  proph" 
ets.  In  all  their  manifold  writings  it  does  not  occur  a  single 
time,  though  they  make  frequent  reference  to  the  past.  There 
can  now  be  little  doubt  that  the  composition  of  the  bulk  of  Le- 
viticus, and  of  considerable  portions  of  the  books  of  Numbers, 
Exodus,  and  even  parts  of  Genesis,  belongs  to  the  epoch  of  the 
second  Temple,  and  that  the  date  of  these  writings  may  be 
approximately  fixed  at  about  one  thousand  years  after  the  time 
of  Moses.  As  to  the  story  of  Israel's  desert  wanderings,  it  rests 
upon  ancient  traditions  whose  character  it  is  not  our  present 
business  to  investigate.  It  was  successively  worked  up  in  vari- 
ous schools  of  priests  and  prophets,  and  this  accounts  for  the 
host  of  discrepancies  it  contains,  some  of  which  have  been  no- 
ticed in  the  beginning  of  this  essay.  It  was  finally  amplified  by 
the  inventive  genius  of  the  second-Temple  priesthood,  who  suc- 
ceeded in  heightening  the  sanctity  of  their  own  institutions  by 
tracing  them  back  to  a  revered,  heroic  person,  who  had  lived  in 
the  dim  days  of  remote  antiquity. 

In  the  preceding  pages  we  have  indicated  the  more  impor- 
tant phases  of  that  conflict  which  ended  in  the  establishment  of 
monotheism,  a  conflict  whose  traces,  though  sometimes  barely 
legible,  are  still  preserved  in  our  records.  We  saw  in  the  first  in- 
stance that  the  Mosaic  age  is  shrouded  in  uncertainty.  We  pointed 
out  that  pure  monotheism  was  unknown  in  the  time  of  the  early 
kings.  We  briefly  referred  to  the  rise  of  monotheism.  Finally, 
we  endeavored  to  show  how  the  prophetic  idea  had  been  suc- 
cessively expressed  in  various  codes,  each  corresponding  to  a  cer- 
tain stage  in  the  great  process  of  evolution.  From  what  we 
have  said,  it  follows  that  the  prophetic  ideal  of  religion  is  the 
root  and  core  of  all  that  is  valuable  in  the  Hebrew  Bible.  The 
laws,  rites,  and  observances,  in  which  it  found  a  temporary  and 
changeful  expression,  may  lose  their  vitality  ;  it  will  always  con- 
tinue to  exert  its  high  influence.  It  was  not  the  work  of  one 
man,  nor  of  a  single  age,  but  was  reached  in  the  long  course  of 

period  in  the  history  of  the  Jews,  when  the  fear  of  taking  the  name 
of  the  Lord  in  vain  induced  men  to  avoid,  if  possible,  mentioning  it 
at  all.     We  find  ha  Shem  in  the  above  sense  in  Lev.  xxiv.  11. 


200  APPENDIX. 

generations  on  generations,  evolved  amid  error  and  vice,  slowly, 
and  against  all  the  odds  of  time.  It  has  been  said  that  the 
Bible  is  opposed  to  the  theory  of  evolution.  The  Bible  itself  is 
a  prominent  example  of  evolution  in  history.  It  is  not  homo- 
geneous in  all  its  parts.  There  are  portions  filled  with  tales  of 
human  error  and  fallibility.  These  are  the  incipient  stages  of 
an  early  age — the  dark  and  dread  beginnings.  There  are  others 
thrilling  with  noblest  emotion,  freighted  with  eternal  truths, 
breathing  celestial  music.  These  are  the  triumph  and  the  fru- 
ition of  a  later  day.  It  is  thus  by  discriminating  between  what 
is  essentially  excellent  and  what  is  comparatively  valueless  that 
we  shall  best  reconcile  the  discordant  claims  of  reason  and  of 
faith.  The  Bible  was  never  designed  to  convey  scientific  in- 
formation, nor  was  it  intended  to  serve  as  a  text-book  of  history. 
In  its  ethical  teachings  lies  its  true  significance.  On  them  it 
may  fairly  rest  its  claims  to  the  immortal  reverence  of  mankind. 

There  was  a  time  in  the  olden  days  of  Greece  when  it  was 
demanded  that  the  poems  of  Homer  should  be  removed  from 
the  schools,  lest  the  minds  of  the  young  might  be  poisoned  by 
the  weeds  of  superstitious  belief.  Plato,  the  poet-philosopher, 
it  was  who  urged  this  demand.  That  time  is  past.  The  tales 
of  the  gods  and  heroes  have  long  since  ceased  to  entice  our 
credulity.  The  story  of  Achilles's  wrath  and  the  wanderings  of 
the  sage  Ulysses  are  not  believed  as  history,  but  the  beauty  and 
freshness  and  the  golden  poetry  of  the  Homeric  epic  have  a 
reality  all  their  own,  and  are  a  delight  and  a  glory  now,  as  they 
have  ever  been  before.  The  Bible  also  is  a  classical  book.  It 
is  the  classical  book  of  noble  ethical  sentiment.  In  it  the  mortal 
fear,  the  overflowing  hope,  the  quivering  longings  of  the  human 
soul  toward  the  better  and  the  best,  have  found  their  first,  their 
freshest,  their  fittest  utterance.  In  this  respect  it  can  never  be 
superseded. 

To  Greek  philosophy  we  owe  the  evolution  of  the  logical 
categories  ;  to  Hebrew  prophecy,  the  pure  canon  of  moral 
principle  and  action.  That  this  result  was  the  outcome  of  a 
long  process  of  suffering  and  struggle  cannot  diminish  its  value 
in  our  estimation.  When  we  compare  the  degrading  offices  of 
the  Hebrew  religion  in  the  days  of  the  judges  with  the  lofty 


APPENDIX.  20I 

aspirations  of  the  second  Isaiah,  when  we  remember  the  utter 
abyss  of  moral  abasement  from  which  the  nobler  spirits  of  the 
Hebrews  rose  to  the  free  heights  of  prophecy,  our  confidence 
in  the  divine  possibilities  of  the  human  soul  is  reinvigorated,  our 
emulation  is  kindled,  and  from  the  great  things  already  accom- 
plished we  gather  the  cheering  promise  of  the  greater  things 
that  are  yet  to  come.  It  is  in  this  moral  incentive  that  the 
practical  value  of  the  evolutionary  theory  chiefly  lies.^ 

^  Most  aptly  has  this  thought  been  expressed  in  the  lines  with 
which  Goethe  welcomed  the  appearance  of  F.  A.  Wolfs  "  Pro- 
legomena : " 

**  Erst  die  Gesundheit  des  Mannes,  der,  endlich  vom  Namen  Homeros 
Kiihn  uns  befreiend,  uns  auch  fiihrt  in  die  vollere  Bahn. 
Denn  wer  wagte  mit  Gottern  den  Kampf  ?  und  wer  mit  dera  Einen  ? — 
Doch  Homeridezu  sejm,  auch  nur  als  letzter,  ist  schon." 

The  Elegy  of  Hermann  und  Dorothea 


11. 


REFORMED    JUDAISM. 

The  Jews  are  justly  called  a  peculiar  people.  During  the 
past  three  thousand  years  they  have  lived  apart  from  their  fel- 
low-men, in  a  state  of  voluntary  or  enforced  isolation.  The 
laws  of  the  Pentateuch  directed  them  to  avoid  contact  with 
heathens.  Christianity  in  turn  shunned  and  execrated  them. 
Proud  and  sensitive  by  nature,  subjected  to  every  species  of 
humiliation  and  contempt,  they  retired  upon  themselves,  and 
continued  to  be  what  the  seer  from  Aram  had  described  them 
in  the  olden  time,  "  A  people  that  dwells  in  solitude."  ^  It  fol- 
lowed that,  in  the  progress  of  time,  idiosyncrasies  of  character 
were  developed,  and  habits  of  thinking  and  feeling  grew  up 
amongst  them,  which  could  not  but  contribute  to  alienate  them 
still  more  from  the  surrounding  world.  They  felt  that  they  were 
not  understood.  They  were  too  shy  to  open  their  confidence  to 
their  oppressors.  They  remained  an  enigma.  At  wide  inter- 
vals books  appeared  purporting  to  give  an  account  of  the  Jews 
and  their  sacred  customs.  But  these  attempts  were,  in  the 
main,  dictated  by  no  just  or  generous  motive.  Their  authors, 
narrow  bigots  or  renegades  from  Judaism,  ransacked  the  vast 
literature  of  the  Hebrew  people  for  such  scattered  fragments 
as  might  be  used  to  their  discredit,  and  exhibited  these  as  sam- 
ples of  Jewish  manners  and  Jewish  religion.  The  image  thus 
presented,  it  is  needless  to  say,  was  extremely  untrustworthy. 
And  yet  the  writings  of  these  partial  judges  have  remained  al- 
most the  only  sources  from  which  even  many  modern  writers 
are  accustomed  to  draw  their  information.  The  historian  is  yet 
to  come  who  will  dispel  the  dense  mists  of  prejudice  that  have 
gathered  about  Jewish  history,  and  reveal  the  inward  life  of  this 

^  Numbers  xxiii.  9. 


APPENDIX.  203 

wonderful  people,  whose  perennial  freshness  has  been  preserved 
through  so  many  centuries  of  the  most  severe  trials  and  perse- 
cution. In  one  respect,  indeed,  let  us  hasten  to  add,  the  popu- 
lar judgment  concerning  the  Jews  has  never  been  deceived. 
The  intense  conservatism  in  religion  for  which  they  have  become 
proverbial  is  fully  confirmed  by  facts.  There  exists  no  other 
race  of  men  that  has  approved  its  fidelity  to  religious  conviction 
for  an  equal  period,  under  equal  difficulties,  and  amid  equal 
temptations.  Antiochus,  Titus,  Firuz,  Reccared,  Edward  I.  of 
England,  Philip  Augustus  of  France,  Ferdinand  of  Spain,  ex- 
hausted the  resources  of  tyranny  in  vain  to  shake  their  constancy. 
Their  power  of  resistance  rose  with  the  occasion  that  called  it 
forth;  and  their  fervid  loyalty  to  the  faith  transmitted  to  them 
by  the  fathers  never  appeared  to  greater  advantage  than  when 
it  cost  them  their  peace,  their  happiness,  and  their  life  to  main- 
tain it.  Since  the  close  of  the  last  century,  however,  a  great 
change  has  apparently  come  over  the  Jewish  people.  Not  only 
have  they  abandoned  their  former  attitude  of  reserve  and 
mingled  freely  with  their  fellow-citizens  of  whatever  creed,  not 
only  have  they  taken  a  leading  part  in  the  great  political  revo- 
lutions that  swept  over  Europe,  but  the  passion  for  change,  so 
characteristic  of  the  age  in  which  we  live,  has  extended  even  to 
their  time-honored  religion  ;  and  a  movement  aiming  at  nothing 
less  than  the  complete  reformation  of  Judaism  has  arisen,  and 
rapidly  acquired  the  largest  dimensions.  The  very  fact  that  such 
a  movement  should  exist  among  such  a  people  is  rightly  inter- 
preted as  a  sign  of  the  times  deserving  of  careful  and  candid 
consideration  ;  and  great  interest  has  accordingly  been  mani- 
fested of  late  on  the  subject  of  Jewish  Reform.  In  a  series  of 
articles  we  shall  undertake  to  give  a  brief  sketch  of  the  origin 
and  bearings  of  the  movement.  But  before  addressing  our- 
selves to  this  task  it  will  be  necessary  to  review  a  few  of  the 
main  causes  that  have  enabled  the  Jews  to  perdure  in  history, 
and  to  consider  the  motives  that  impelled  them  to  resist  change 
so  long,  if  we  would  properly  appreciate  the  process  of  trans- 
formation that  is  even  now  taking  place  among  them.  Among 
the  efficient  forces  that  conduced  to  the  preservation  of  the  Jew- 
ish people  we  rank  highest : 


204  APPENDIX. 


THE  PURITY  OF  THEIR  DOMESTIC  RELATIONS. 

The  sacredness  of  the  family  tie  is  the  condition  both  of  the 
physical  soundness  and  the  moral  vigor  of  nations.  The  family 
is  the  miniature  commonwealth,  upon  whose  integrity  the  safety 
of  the  larger  commonwealth  depends.  It  is  the  seedplot  of  all 
morality.  In  the  child's  intercourse  with  its  parents  the  senti- 
ment of  reverence  is  instilled — the  essence  of  all  piety,  all  ideal- 
ism ;  also  the  habit  of  obedience  to  rightful  authority,  which 
forms  so  invaluable  a  feature  in  the  character  of  the  loyal  citizen. 
In  the  companionship  of  brothers  deference  to  the  rights  of 
equals  is  practically  inculcated,  without  which  no  community 
could  exist.  The  relations  between  brother  and  sister  give  birth 
to  the  sentiment  of  chivalry, — regard  for  the  rights  of  the 
weaker, — and  this  forms  the  basis  of  magnanimity,  and  every 
generous  and  tender  quality  that  graces  humanity.  Reverence 
for  superiors,  respect  for  equals,  regard  for  inferiors, — these 
form  the  supreme  trinity  of  the  virtues.  Whatever  is  great  and 
good  in  the  institutions  and  usages  of  mankind  is  an  application 
of  sentiments  that  have  drawn  their  first  nourishment  from  the 
soil  of  the  family.  The  family  is  the  school  of  duties.  But  it 
has  this  distinguishing  excellency,  that  among  those  who  are 
linked  together  by  the  strong  ties  of  affection  duty  is  founded  on 
love.  On  this  account  it  becomes  typical  of  the  perfect  morality 
in  all  the  relations  of  life,  and  we  express  the  noblest  longings 
of  the  human  heart  when  we  speak  of  a  time  to  come  in  which 
all  mankind  will  be  united  **  as  one  family."  Now  the  preemi- 
nence of  the  Jews  in  point  of  domestic  purity  will  hardly  be  dis- 
puted. **  In  this  respect  they  stand  out  like  a  bold  promontory 
in  the  history  of  the  past,  singular  and  unapproached,"  said  the 
philosopher  Trendelenburg.^  According  to  the  provisions  of  the 
Mosaic  Code,  the  crime  of  adultery  is  punished  with  death.  The 
most  minute  directions  are  given  touching  the  dress  of  the 
priests  and  the  common  people,  in  order  to  check  the  pruriency 
of  fancy.     The  scale  of  forbidden  marriages  is  widely  extended 

*  Vide  the  essay  on  the  Origin  of  Monotheism  in  Jahrbuch  des 
Vereins  fur  Wissenschaftliche  Padagogik,  Vol.  IX.  1877,  by  the  author 
of  this  article. 


APPENDIX.  205 

with  the  same  end  in  view.  Almost  the  entire  tribe  of  Benjamin 
is  extirpated  to  atone  for  an  outrage  upon  feminine  virtue  com- 
mitted within  its  borders.  The  undutiful  son  is  stoned  to  death 
in  the  presence  of  the  whole  people.  That  husband  and  wife 
shall  become  •*  as  one  flesh,"  is  a  conception  which  we  find 
only  among  the  Jews.  Among  them  the  picture  of  the  true 
housewife  which  is  unrolled  to  us  in  Proverbs  had  its  original, — 
the  picture  of  her  who  unites  all  womanly  grace  and  gentleness, 
in  whose  environment  dwell  comfort  and  beauty,  "  whose  hus- 
band and  sons  rise  up  to  praise  her."  The  marriage  tie  was 
held  so  sacred  that  it  was  freely  used  by  the  prophets  to  de- 
scribe the  relations  between  the  Deity  and  the  chosen  people. 
Jehovah  is  called  the  husband  of  the  people.  Israel  shall  be  his 
true  and  loyal  spouse.  The  children  of  Israel  are  his  children. 
The  worship  of  false  gods  was  designated  by  the  Hebrew  word 
that  signifies  conjugal  infidelity.  This  feature  of  Jewish  life  re- 
mained equally  prominent  in  later  times.  In  the  age  of  the 
Talmud  marriage  was  called  Hillula, — a  song  of  praise  !  The 
most  holy  day  of  the  year,  the  tenth  of  the  seventh  month,  a  day 
of  fasting  and  the  atonement  of  sins,  was  deemed  a  proper 
occasion  to  collect  the  young  people  for  the  purpose  of  choosing 
husbands  and  wives.  On  that  day  the  maidens  of  Jerusalem, 
arrayed  in  pure  white,  went  out  into  the  vineyards  that  covered 
the  slopes  of  the  neighboring  hills,  dancing  as  they  went,  and 
singing  as  the  bands  of  youth  came  up  to  meet  them  from  the 
valleys.  "  Youth,  raise  now  thine  eyes,"  sang  the  beautiful 
among  them,  "  and  regard  her  whom  thou  choosest."  Look  not 
to  beauty,"  sang  the  well-born,  "  but  rather  to  ancient  lineage 
and  high  descent."  Lastly,  those  who  were  neither  beautiful 
nor  well  born  took  up  the  strain,  and  thus  they  sang  :  "  Treach- 
erous is  grace,  and  beauty  deceitful ;  the  woman  that  fears  God 
alone  shall  be  praised."  The  appropriateness  of  such  proceed- 
ings on  the  Atonement  day  was  justified  by  the  remark  that 
marriage  is  itself  an  act  of  spiritual  purification.  The  high  value 
attached  to  the  institution  of  the  family  is  further  illustrated  by 
many  tender  legends  of  the  Talmud  which  we  cannot  here  stop 
to  recount.  A  separate  gate,  it  is  said,  was  reserved  in  Solo- 
mon's Temple   for  the  use  of  bridegrooms,  before  which  they 


206  APPENDIX. 

received  the  felicitations  of  the  assembled  people.  The  marriage 
celebration  was  essentially  a  festival  of  relig-ion.  Seven  days  it 
lasted.  The  Talmudic  law,  usually  so  unbending  in  its  exac- 
tions, relaxed  its  austerity  in  favor  of  these  auspicious  occasions, 
and  recommended  to  all  to  rejoice  with  the  joyful.  On  the  Sab- 
bath of  the  marriage-week,  the  young  husband  was  received 
with  peculiar  honors  in  the  synagogue,  and  the  liturgy  of  the 
mediasval  Jews  is  crowded  with  hymns  composed  in  honor  of 
these  solemn  receptions.  If  a  whole  congregation  thus  united 
to  magnify  and  sanctify  the  erection  of  a  new  home,  the  con- 
tinued preservation  of  its  sanctity  might  safely  be  left  to  the  jeal- 
ous watchfulness  of  its  inmates.  Cases  of  sensual  excess  or  of 
unfilial  conduct  have  been  extremely  infrequent  among  the  Jews, 
down  to  modern  times.  However  mean  the  outward  appearance 
of  their  homes  might  be,  the  moral  atmosphere  that  pervaded 
them  was  rarely  contaminated.  If  the  question  be  asked,  how 
it  came  about  that  so  feeble  a  people  could  resist  the  malevo- 
lence of  its  foes  ;  that  a  nation,  deprived  of  any  visible  rallying- 
point,  with  no  political  or  religious  centre  to  cement  their  union, 
had  not  long  since  been  wiped  out  from  the  earth's  surface,  we 
answer  that  the  hearth  was  their  rallying-point  and  the  centre 
of  their  union.  There  the  scattered  atoms  gained  consistency 
sufficient  to  withstand  the  pressure  of  the  world.  Thither  they 
could  come  to  recreate  their  torn  and  lacerated  spirits.  There 
was  the  well-spring  of  their  power. 

THE    SCHOOLS. 

If  the  Jewish  people  were  preserved  in  moral  vigor  by  the 
influence  of  their  domestic  life,  the  care  they  bestowed  on  the 
education  of  the  young  kept  them  intellectually  fresh.  Schools 
were  erected  in  ever}^  town  and  country  district.  It  was  forbid- 
den a  Jew  to  reside  in  cities  where  no  provision  had  been  made  for 
the  instruction  of  children.  Teachers  were  called  the  guardians 
of  cities.  The  destruction  of  Jerusalem  was  attributed  to  the 
fact  that  the  schools  had  been  suffered  to  fall  into  neglect. 
Synagogues  were  often  used  for  purposes  of  primary  instruction. 
"  A  sage  is  greater  than  a  prophet,"  said  the  proverb.  To  in- 
crease in  knowledge,  at  least  in  a  certain  kind  of  knowledge,  was 


APPENDIX.  207 

a  part  of  the  Jew's  religion.     According  to  the  theory  of  th^ 
Rabbies  the  revelation  of  God  to  man -is  fully  embodied  in  the 
books  of  the  Old  Testament,  especially  in  the  books  of  the  Pen- 
tateuch, commonly  called  the  Tora, — the  Law.     They  contain, 
either  by  direct  statement  or  by  implication,  whatever  it  is  neces- 
sary for  men  to  know.     They  anticipate  all  future  legislation. 
Though  apparently  scanty  in  substance,  they  are  replete  with 
suggestions  of  profound  and  inexhaustible  wisdom.     To  pene- 
trate the  hidden  meanings  of  **  the  Law  "  became,  on  this  ac- 
count, the  primary  obligation  of  the  devout ;  and  ignorance  was 
not  only  despised  on  its  own   account,  but  was,  in  addition, 
branded  as  a  sign  of  deficient  piety.     The  ordinances  of  the 
Jewish  sages  are  all  ostensibly  deduced  from  the  words  of  the 
Sacred  Law.     Without  such  sanction  no  enactment  of  any  later 
lawgiver,  however  salutary  in  itself,  could  aspire  to  general  rec- 
ognition.    The  civil  and  criminal  law,  the  principles  of  science, 
sanitary  and  police  regulations,  even  the  rules  of  courtesy  and 
decorum,  are  alike  rested  on  scriptural  authority.     The  entire 
Talmud  may  be  roughly  described  as  an  extended  commentary 
on  the  Mosaic  Law.*     The  authors  of  the  Talmud  led  a  studious 
life,  and  relied  in  great  measure  upon  the  habit  of  study  to  pre- 
serve the  vitality  of  their  faith.     Among  the  sayings  of  the  sages* 
we  read  such  as  these.     Jose  ben  Joeser  says  :  '*  Let  thy  house 
be  the  resort  of  the  wise,  and  let  the  dust  of  their  feet  cover  thee, 
and  drink  in  thirstily  their  words."     Joshua  ben  Perachia  says  : 
'•  Get  thee  an  instructor,  gain  a  companion  [for  thy  studies],  and 
judge  all  men  upon  the  presumption  of  their  innocence."     Hillel 
says :  *'  Who  gains  not  in  knowledge  loses.     ...     Say  not, 
*  When  I  am  at  leisure  I  will  study ' ;  't  is  likely  thou  wilt  never 
be  at  leisure.     .     .     .     He  who  increases  flesh  increases  corrup- 
tion ;  he  who  increases  worldly  goods  increases  care ;  he  who 
increases  servants  increases  theft ;  but  he  who  increases  in  the 
knowledge  of  the  Law  increases  life."     Jochanan  ben  Sakkai 
says :  •*  If  thou  art  wise  in  the  knowledge  of  the  Law,  take  not 
credit  to  thyself,  for  to  this  end  wast  thou  created."     After  the 

*  For  a  concise  but  comprehensive  account  of  the  origin  of  the 
Talmud,  vide  the  art.  Talmud  in  Johnson's  Encyclopaedia. 
2  Collected  in  the  Tract  Aboth  (Fathers). 


208  APPENDIX. 

destruction  of  the  Temple  by  Titus,  academies  sacred  to  the  study 
of  the  Law  were  erected  in  different  cities  of  Palestine,  and  simi- 
lar institutions  flourished  on  the  banks  of  the  Euphrates.  In  the 
eleventh  century  the  chief  seats  of  Jewish  learning  were  trans- 
planted to  the  West ;  and  since  that  time  the  European  Jews 
have  excelled  their  brethren  of  the  East  in  all  the  elements  of 
mental  culture.  In  the  course  of  their  manifold  wanderings  the 
Jews  carried  their  libraries  everywhere  with  them.  Wherever  a 
synagogue  arose,  a  school  for  young  children  and  a  high  school 
for  youths  were  connected  with  it.  In  the  dark  night  of  the 
ghetto  the  flame  of  knowledge  was  never  quenched.  While  the 
nations  of  Europe  were  still  sunk  in  barbarism  the  Jews  zealously 
devoted  themselves  to  the  pursuit  of  medicine,  mathematics,  and 
dialectics,  and  the  love  of  learning  became  an  hereditary  quality 
in  their  midst.  The  efforts  of  many  generations  have  contributed 
to  keep  their  intellectual  faculties  bright ;  and,  unlike  most  op- 
pressed races,  they  have  emerged  from  a  long  epoch  of  system- 
atic persecution  well  fitted  to  attack  the  problems  of  the  present 
with  fresh  interest  and  undiminished  capacity. 

THE  DEMOCRATIC  ORGANIZATION  OF  THE  SYNAGOGUE. 

The  spirit  of  monotheism  is  essentially  democratic  both  in 
politics  and  religion.  There  is  to  be  but  one  king,  and  he  the 
spiritual  Lord  in  heaven.  All  the  people  are  equal  before  him. 
When  the  Hebrews  clamorously  demanded  a  king  the  prophet 
charged  them  with  treason  against  their  proper  ruler.  The 
prophet  and  priest  were  hostile  powers ;  and  their  antagonism 
was  clearly  felt,  and  sometimes  energetically  expressed.  The 
Lord  takes  no  delight  in  the  slaughter  of  animals.  The  bloody 
sacrifices  are  an  offence  to  Him.  What  He  requites  is  purity 
of  heart,  righteous  judgment,  and  care  for  the  widow  and  the 
fatherless.  The  idea  of  priestly  mediation — of  mediation  in  any 
shape — was  repugnant  to  the  Jews.  "The  whole  people  are 
priests,"  it  was  said.  When  the  sanctuary  at  Jerusalem  had 
been  laid  in  ashes,  anything  resembling  a  hierarchical  caste  was 
no  longer  tolerated  among  them.  The  Law  and  the  Science  of 
the  Law  were  open  to  all ;  and  each  one  was  expected,  accord- 
ing to  the  measure  of  his  capacity,  to  draw  directly  from  the 


APPENDIX.  209 

fountain-head  of  faith.  The  autonomy  of  the  congregations  was 
strictly  guarded.  Entire  uniformity  in  the  ritual  was  never 
achieved.^  The  public  lector  of  prayers  was  called  **  the  dele- 
gate of  the  congregation."  The  Rabbies  (the  word  means 
Masters,  in  the  sense  of  teachers)  were  men  distinguished  for 
superior  erudition  and  the  blamelessness  of  their  lives,  and  these 
qualities  formed  their  only  title  to  distinction.^  Their  duties  dif- 
fered radically  from  those  of  the  Catholic  priest  or  the  Protestant 
clergyman.  They  never  took  upon  themselves  the  care  of  souls. 
Their  office  was  to  instruct  the  young,  and  in  general  to  regulate 
the  practice  of  religion  according  to  the  principles  and  precedents 
laid  down  in  the  sacred  traditions  of  their  people.  The  sev^eral 
congregations  were  independent  of  each  other.  There  were  no 
general  synods  or  councils,  no  graded  hierarchy  culminating  in 
a  spiritual  head,  no  oligarchy  of  ministers  and  elders  ;  but  rather 
a  federation  of  small  communities,  each  being  a  sovereign  unit, 
and  connected  with  the  others  solely  by  the  ties  of  a  common 
faith,  common  sympathies,  and  common  sufferings.  Any  ten 
men  were  competent  to  form,  themselves  into  a  congregation, 
and  to  discharge  all  the  duties  of  religion.  The  fact  that  this 
was  so  proved  of  the  utmost  consequence  in  preserving  the  in- 
tegrity of  Judaism.  The  Jews  were  parcelled  out  over  the  whole 
earth.  The  body  of  the  people  was  again  and  again  divided. 
But  in  every  case  the  barest  handful  that  remained  sufficed  to 
become  the  nucleus  of  new  organizations.  Had  the  system  of 
Judaism  required  any  one  central  organ,  a  blow  aimed  against 
this  would  doubtless  have  proved  fatal  to  the  whole.  But  by 
the  wise  provisions  of  the  federative  system  the  vital  power 
seems  to  have  been  equally  disseminated  over  the  entire  com- 
munity. Like  the  worm  that  is  trodden  under  foot,  to  which 
Israel  so  often  likens  itself  in  the  Hebrew  prayers,  the  divided 
members  lived  a  new  life  of  their  own,  and  though  apparently 
crushed  beneath  the  heel  of  their  oppressors,  they  ever  rose 
again  in  indestructible  vitality. 

*  Vide  Zunz  Die  Ritus. 

'  Many  of  them  supported  themselves  by  following  some  humble 
calling,  refusing  to  receive  remuneration  for  their  teachings,  on  the 
principle  that  the  Law  "  should  not  be  made  a  spade  to  dig  with." 


2IO  APPENDIX. 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF   PERSECUTION. 

In  surveying  the  history  of  the  Jewish  people  we  find  a 
strange  blending  of  nationalism  and  cosmopolitism  illustrated 
in  their  actions  and  beliefs.  They  proudly  styled  themselves 
the  elect  people  of  God,  they  looked  down  with  a  certain  con- 
tempt upon  the  Gentile  nations,  yet  they  conceived  themselves 
chosen,  not  on  their  own  account,  but  for  the  world's  sake,  in 
order  to  spread  the  knowledge  of  the  true  God  among  men. 
They  repudiated  heathenism,  and  regarded  Trinitarianism  as  an 
aberration.  In  contradistinction  to  these  their  mission  was  to 
protect  the  purity  of  the  monotheistic  religion  until  in  the  mil- 
lennial age  all  nations  would  gather  about  their  "  holy  Mount." 
They  considered  their  own  continued  existence  as  a  people  fore- 
ordained in  the  Divine  scheme,^  because  they  believed  them- 
selves divinely  commissioned  to  bring  about  the  eternal  happi- 
ness of  the  human  race.  The  centripetal  and  centrifugal  forces 
of  character  were  thus  evenly  balanced,  and  this  circumstance 
contributed  not  a  little  to  enliven  their  courage  in  the  face  of 
long-continued  adversity.  When  the  independence  of  Greece 
was  lost,  the  Greeks  ceased  to  exist  as  a  nation.  But  the  loss 
of  the  Temple  and  the  fatherland  gave  barely  more  than  a  pass- 
ing shock  to  the  national  consciousness  of  the  Jews.  Easily 
they  acclimatized  themselves  in  every  quarter  of  the  globe.  The 
fact  of  their  dispersion  was  cited  by  Christianity  as  a  sign  of 
their  rejection  by  God.  They  themselves  regarded  it  as  a  part 
of  their  mission  to  be  scattered  as  seed  over  the  whole  earth. 
That  they  should  suffer  was  necessary,  they  being  the  Messianic 
people  !  Their  prayers  were  filled  with  lamentations  and  the 
recital  of  their  cruel  woes.  But  they  invariably  ended  with 
words  of  promise  and  confidence  in  the  ultimate  fulfillment  of 
Israel's  hope.  Thus  in  the  very  depths  of  their  degradation 
they  were  supported  by  a  sense  of  the  grandeur  of  their  desti- 
nies, and  by  the  proud  consciousness  that  their  sufferings  were 

^  "  Let  it  not  seem  strange  to  you  that  we  should  regain  our  for- 
mer condition,  even  though  only  a  single  one  of  us  were  left,  as  it  is 
written,  'Fear  not,  thou  worm,  Jacob!'" — JUDA  HA- Levi,  in  the 
book  Cusari  (twelfth  century),  ill.  ii. 


APPENDIX.  211 

the  price  paid  for  the  world's  spiritual  redemption.  In  the 
earlier  half  of  the  Middle  Ages  the  Jews  were  still  permitted  to 
enjoy  a  certain  measure  of  liberty.  In  Spain,  France  and  Ger- 
many they  lived  on  amicable  terms  with  their  neighbors,  they 
engaged  in  trade  and  manufacture,  and  were  allowed  to  possess 
landed  property.  In  the  tenth  and  eleventh  centuries  a  great 
part  of  the  city  of  Paris  was  owned  by  Jews.  But  at  the  time 
of  the  Crusades  a  terrible  change  in  the  aspect  of  their  affairs 
took  place.  The  principles  embodied  in  the  canonical  law  had 
by  this  time  entered  into  the  practice  of  the  European  nations. 
Fanaticism  was  rampant.  The  banks  of  the  Rhine  and  the  Mo- 
selle became  the  theatre  of  the  most  pitiless  persecution.  Among 
the  Crusaders  the  cry  was  raised,  "  We  go  to  Palestine  to  slay 
the  unbelievers  ;  why  not  begin  with  the  infidel  Jews  in  our  own 
midst }  "  Worms,  Spires,  Mayence,  Strassburg,  Basle,  Regens- 
burg,  Breslau,  witnessed  the  slaughter  of  their  Jewish  inhabitants. 
Toward  the  close  of  the  thirteenth  century  one  hundred  thousand 
Jews  perished  at  the  hands  of  Rindfleisch,  and  the  murderous 
hordes  of  whom  he  was  the  leader.  To  add  fuel  to  the  passions 
of  the  populace  the  most  absurd  accusations  were  brought  for- 
ward against  them,  and  their  religion  was  made  odious  by  con- 
necting it  with  charges  of  grave  moral  obliquity.  Jewish  physi- 
cians being  in  great  request,  especially  at  the  court  of  kings,  it 
was  given  out  that  with  fiendish  malice  they  were  wont  to  pro- 
cure the  death  of  their  Christian  patients.^  They  were  accused 
of  killing  Christian  children,  and  using  the  blood  of  Christians  in 
celebrating  the  Passover  festival,  and  this  monstrous  falsehood 
was  repeated  until  no  one  doubted  its  substantial  truth.  Let  it 
be  remembered  that  this  charge  was  originally  preferred,  in  a 
somewhat  different  shape,  against  the  Christians  themselves.  It 
floated  down,  as  such  rumors  will,  from  age  to  age,  until,  its 
authorship  being  forgotten,  it  was  finally  used  as  a  convenient 
handle  against  the  hated  Jews.  In  this  manner  the  Easter-tide 
which  was  to  announce  the  triumph  of  a  religion  of  love  became 
to  the  Jews  a  season  of  terror  and  mortal  agony,  and  the  Easter 
dawn  was  often  reddened  with  the  flames  that  rose  from  Jewish 
homes.     It  is  impossible  to  calculate  the  number  of  lives  that 

*  Thus  in  the  case  of  Charles  the  Bald,  and  others. 


212  APPENDIX. 

have  been  lost  in  consequence  of  this  single  accusation.  It  has 
lived  on  even  into  the  present  century.^  In  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury the  Black  Death  devastated  the  Continent  of  Europe.  Soon 
the  opinion  gained  ground  that  the  Jews  were  responsible  for 
the  ravages  of  the  plague.  It  was  claimed  that  the  Rabbi  of 
Toledo  had  sent  out  a  venomous  mixture  concocted  of  conse- 
crated wafers  and  the  blood  of  Christian  hearts  to  the  various 
congregations,  with  orders  to  poison  the  wells.  The  Pope  him- 
self undertook  to  plead  for  their  innocency,  but  even  papal  bulls 
were  powerless  to  stay  the  popular  madness.  In  Dekkendorf  a 
church  was  built  in  honor  of  the  massacre  of  the  Jews  of  that 
town,  and  the  spot  thus  consecrated  has  remained  a  favorite  re- 
sort of  pilgrims  down  to  modern  times.  The  preaching  friars 
of  the  Franciscan  and  Dominican  orders  were  particularly  active 
in  fanning  the  embers  of  bigotry  whenever  they  threatened  to 
die  down.  In  England,  France  and  Spain  the  horrors  enacted 
in  Germany  were  repeated  on  a  scale  of  similar  magnitude.  The 
tragic  fate  of  the  Jews  of  York,  the  fury  of  the  Pastoureaux,  the 
miserable  scenes  that  accompanied  the  exodus  of  the  Jews  from 
Spain  are  familiar  facts  of  history.  In  Poland,  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  the  uprising  of  the  Cossacks  under  the  chieftainship  of 
Chmielnicki  became  once  more  the  signal  of  destruction.  It  is 
estimated  that  in  ten  years  (i 648-1 658)  upwards  of  two  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  Jews  perished.^  Even  when  the  lives  of  the 
Jews  were  spared,  their  condition  was  so  extremely  wretched 
that  death  might  often  have  seemed  the  preferable  alternative. 
The  theory  propounded  by  the  Church  and  acted  out  by  the 
temporal  rulers  of  the  Middle  Ages  is  expressed  in  the  words  of 

^  In  the  year  1840  it  was  simultaneously  renewed  in  Rhenish 
Prussia,  on  the  Isle  of  Rhodos,  and  in  the  city  of  Damascus.  In  that 
city  the  most  respected  members  of  the  Jewish  community  were  ar- 
rested, with  the  assistance  of  the  French  Consul,  Ratti  Menton,  and 
underwent  cruel  torture.  The  intense  excitement  caused  throughout 
Europe  at  the  time  is,  doubtless,  still  fresh  in  the  memory  of  many 
who  will  read  these  pages.  The  utter  falsity  of  the  charge  was  at 
last  exposed,  thanks  to  the  efforts  of  the  Austrian  Consul  Merlato 
and  the  energetic  action  of  Lord  Palmerston. 

*  Graetz,  Gesch.  der  Juden,  X.  p.  78. 


APPENDIX.  213 

Innocent  III.,  "Quos  propria  culpa  submisit  perpetuae  servituti. 
quum  Dominum  crucifixerint — pietas  Christiana  receptet  et  sus- 
tineat  cohabitationem  iliorum."  * 

By  the  crucifixion  of  Jesus  the  Jews  had  forfeited  for  them- 
selves and  their  posterity  the  right  to  exist  in  Christian  states. 
They  lived  on  sufferance  merely.  In  the  feudal  system  there 
was  no  room  for  them.  They  were  aliens,  were  regarded  as  the 
property  of  the  Emperor,  and  he  was  free  to  deal  with  them  as 
suited  his  convenience.  Hence  the  name  servi  cainerce — ser- 
vants of  the  imperial  chamber — was  applied  to  them.  They 
could  be  sold,  purchased,  given  away  at  pleasure.  Charles  IV. 
presented  **  the  persons  and  property  of  his  Jews  "  to  the  city 
of  Worms.  In  a  schedule  of  toll-dues  dating  from  the  year  1398 
we  read  :  "  a  horse  pays  two  shillings,  a  Jew  six  shillings,  an  ox 
two  heller."  ^  They  were  compelled  to  wear  a  badge  of  shame 
upon  their  garments  ;  ^  were  confined  to  narrow  and  filthy  quar- 
ters,—^y^^//<?,  juderia, — debarred  from  all  honorable  employ- 
ments. The  schools  and  universities  were  closed  against  them. 
The  guilds  shut  them  out  from  the  various  trades.  To  gain 
the  means  of  subsistence  nothing  remained  for  them  but  to  en- 
gage in  the  petty  traffic  of  the  peddler  or  the  disreputable  busi- 
ness of  the  money-lender.  They  had  absolutely  no  choice  in 
the  matter.  The  laws  of  Moses  certainly  discountenance  the 
lending  of  money  at  interest.  The  authorities  of  the  Tal- 
mud severely  condemn  the  practice  of  usury,  and  refuse  to 
admit  the  testimony  of  usurers  in  courts  of  law.*  But  all  scru- 
ples on  the  part  of  the  Jews  had  now  to  be  set  aside.  Gold 
they  must  have,  and  in  abundance.  It  was  the  only  means  of 
buying  their  peace.    The  taxes  levied  by  the  imperial  chamber 

*  Cassel,  art.  Juden^  p.  83,  in  Ersch  und  Gruber ;  vide  also  p.  85, 
•'  ad  perpetuam  Judaici  sceleris  ultionem  eisdem  Judaeis  induxerit 
perpetuam  servitutem." 

2  Ibid,  p.  91. 

^  The  signum  circulare  was  borrowed  from  Islam.  It  has  been 
ingeniously  conjectured  that  the  circular  form  was  selected  in  con- 
tradistinction to  the  sign  of  the  crescent.     Ibid,  p.  75. 

*Mishna  Sanhedrin,  III.  3, 


214  APPENDIX. 

were  enormous.^  The  cities,  the  baronial  lords,  in  whose  terri- 
tory they  took  refuge,  constantly  imposed  new  burdens  as  the 
price  of  toleration.  The  Jews  have  often  been  held  up  to  con- 
tempt for  their  avarice  and  rapacity.  The  reproach  is  unjust.  It 
reminds  one  of  the  ancient  Philistines,  who,  having  shorn  the 
Hebrew  of  his  strength  and  blinded  him,  called  him  with  jeers 
from  his  prison-house  to  exhibit  him  to  the  popular  gaze  and  to 
make  sport  of  his  infirmity. 

Under  these  circumstances  the  conservatism  of  the  Jews  in 
matters  of  reHgion  can  no  longer  astonish  us.  Rejected  by  the 
world,  they  lived  in  a  world  of  their  own.  They  had  inherited 
from  their  ancestors  an  extended  code  of  ceremonial  observances, 
dietary  laws,  and  minute  and  manifold  directions  for  the  con- 
duct of  life.  In  these  they  beheld  the  bulwark  of  their  religion, 
the  common  bond  that  united  the  scattered  members  of  their 
race.  The  Jew  of  Persia  or  Palestine  could  come  among  his 
German  brethren,  and  hear  the  same  prayers  expressed  in  the 
same  language,  and  recognize  the  same  customs  as  were  current 
among  his  co-religionists  in  the  East.  The  passwords  of  the 
faith  were  everywhere  understood.  To  preserve  complete 
unanimity  with  respect  to  religious  usage  was  a  measure  dic- 
tated by  the  commanding  instinct  of  self-preservation.  The 
Jews  of  all  countries  were  furthermore  united  by  the  common 
yearnings  with  which  they  looked  back  to  the  past,  and  their 
common  hope  of  ultimate  restoration  to  the  heritage  of  the 
promised  land.^  However  prolonged  their  abode  in  the  land  of 
the  stranger  might  be,  they  never  regarded  it  otherwise  than  in 
the  light  of  a  temporary  sojourn,  and  Palestine  remained  their 
true  fatherland.     "  If  I  forget  thee,  Jerusalem,  wither  my  right 

^  A  general  tax  paid  in  recognition  of  the  Emperor's  protection  ; 
the  Temple  tax  claimed  by  the  Holy  Roman  Emperor  in  his  capacity 
as  the  successor  of  Vespasian  ;  the  so-called  aurum  coronarium,  or 
coronation  tax,  by  virtue  of  which  every  new  emperor,  upon  his  ac- 
cession to  the  throne,  could  confiscate  the  third  part  of  the  property 
of  the  Jews.     Besides  these,  extraordinary  levies  were  frequent. 

2  On  the  eve  of  the  gth  of  the  fifth  month  it  was  customary  at 
Jerusalem  to  announce  the  number  of  years  that  had  elapsed  since  the 
fall  of  the  Temple.     Zunz,  Die  Ritus,  p.  84. 


APPENDIX.  215 

hand,'*  was  sung  as  plaintively  on  the  banks  of  the  Danube  and 
the  Rhine  as  it  had  resounded  of  old  by  Babel's  streams.  The 
Jewish  people  walked  through  history  as  in  a  dream,  their  eyes 
fixed  on  Zion's  vanished  glories.  Empires  fell ;  wars  devastated 
the  earth  ;  new  manners,  new  modes  of  life,  arose  around  them. 
What  was  all  this  toil  and  turmoil  of  the  nations  to  them  ! 
They  were  not  admitted  to  the  fellowship  of  mankind,  they  pre- 
served their  iron  stability,  they  alone  remained  changeless.  So 
long  as  the  world  maintained  its  hostile  attitude  toward  them, 
there  was  little  likelihood  that  they  would  abandon  their  time- 
honored  traditions.  But  toward  the  close  of  the  last  century 
the  first  tokens  of  political,  social,  and  spiritual  regeneration 
beo^an  to  appear  among  the  despondent  people  of  the  Hebrews. 
The  spirit  of  the  Reformation,  which  had  slumbered  so  long, 
awoke  to  new  vitality.  The  voice  of  love  rebuked  the  selfish- 
ness of  creeds ;  Philosophy  in  the  person  of  Kant  emphasized 
the  duties  of  man  to  man ;  Poetry  sent  its  warm  breath 
through  the  German  land,  and  with  its  sweet  strains  instilled 
broad,  humanitarian  doctrine  into  the  hearts  of  men.  Lessing 
celebrated  the  virtues  of  his  friend,  Moses  Mendelssohn,  in 
"Nathan  the  Wise,"  and  in  the  parable  of  the  rings  showed 
how  the  true  religion  is  to  be  sought  and  found.  The  Royal 
Academy  at  Berlin  nominated  the  same  Mendelssohn  for  mem- 
bership in  its  body.  Jewish  scholars  were  received  with  dis- 
tinction in  the  Austrian  and  Prussian  capitals.  Eminent  states- 
men and  writers  began  to  exert  themselves  to  remove  the  foul 
blot  that  had  so  long  stained  the  conduct  of  the  Christian  states 
in  their  dealings  with  the  Jews.  In  France  the  great  Revolution 
was  rapidly  sweeping  away  the  accumulated  wrongs  of  centu- 
ries. When  the  emancipation  of  the  Jews  came  up  for  discus- 
sion in  the  Convention,  the  ablest  speakers  rose  in  their  behalf. 
The  Abbe  Gregoire  exclaimed :  "  A  new  century  is  about  to 
open.  May  its  portals  be  wreathed  with  the  palm  of  humanity  !  " 
Mirabeau  lent  his  mighty  eloquence  to  their  cause.  "  I  will  not 
speak  of  tolerance,"  he  said  ;  **  the  freedom  of  conscience  is  a 
right  so  sacred  that  even  the  name  of  tolerance  involves  a  species 
of  tyranny."  ^     On  the  28th  September,  1791,  the  National  Con- 

» Vide  the  account  of  the  debates  in  the  official  Monitcur. 


2l6  APPENDIX. 

vention  decreed  the  equality  of  the  Israelites  of  France  with 
their  Christian  fellow-citizens.  The  waves  of  the  Revolution, 
however,  overflowed  the  borders  of  France,  and  the  agitation 
they  caused  was  quickly  communicated  to  all  Germany.  Wher- 
ever the  armies  of  the  Republic  penetrated,  the  gates  of  the 
ghet-.os  were  thrown  open,  and  in  the  name  of  Fraternity,  Lib- 
erty and  Equality  were  announced  to  their  inhabitants.  When 
Napoleonic  misrule  at  last  exasperated  Germany  into  resistance, 
the  seeds  which  French  influence  had  sown  had  already  taken 
firm  root  in  the  German  soil.  On  the  nth  March,  1812,  Fred- 
erick William  III.  issued  his  famous  edict,  removing  the  main 
disabilities  from  which  the  Jews  of  his  dominions  had.  suffered, 
granting  them  the  rights  and  imposing  upon  them  the  honorable 
duties  of  citizenship.  They  were  no  longer  to  be  classed  as 
foreigners.  The  state  claimed  them  as  its  children,  and  exacted 
of  them  the  same  sacrifices  as  all  its  sons  were  called  upon  to 
bring  in  the  troublous  times  that  soon  followed.  With  what  eager 
alacrity  the  Jews  responded  to  the  king's  call  the  records  of  the 
German  wars  for  independence  amply  testify.  On  the  battle- 
fields of  Leipzig  and  Waterloo  they  stood  side  by  side  with  their 
Christian  brethren.  Many  sons  and  fathers  of  Jewish  house- 
holds yielded  their  lives  in  the  country's  defence.  In  the  blood 
of  the  fallen  the  new  covenant  of  equal  justice  was  sealed  for  all 
time  to  come.  However  prejudice  might  still  dog  their  foot- 
steps, however  shamefully  the  government  might  violate  its 
solemn  pledges  to  the  Jewish  soldiers  on  their  return  from  the 
wars,  the  Jews  of  Germany  had  now  gained  what  they  could  no 
more  lose.  They  felt  that  the  land  for  which  they  had  adven- 
tured their  all,  in  whose  behalf  they  had  lost  so  much,  was  in- 
deed their  fatherland.  For  the  first  time,  after  many,  many 
centuries,  the  fugitives  had  gained  a  home,  a  country.  They 
awoke  as  from  a  long  sleep.  They  found  the  world  greatly 
changed  around  them  ;  vast  problems  engaging  the  attention  of 
thinkers,  science  and  philosophy  everywhere  shedding  new  light 
upon  the  path  of  mankind.  They  were  eager  to  approve  them- 
selves worthy  and  loyal  citizens,  eager  to  join  in  the  general  work 
of  progress.  They  dwelt  no  more  with  anxious  preference  on 
the  past.     The  present  and  the  future  demanded  their  exertions. 


APPENDIX.  217 

and  the  motives  that  had  so  long  compelled  their  exclusion  from 
the  fellowship  of  the  Gentiles  were  gradually  disappearing.  As 
their  religion  was  mainly  retrospective  in  character  and  exclusive 
in  tendency,  great  changes  were  needed  to  bring  it  into  har- 
mony with  the  altered  condition  of  affairs.  These  changes 
were  accordingly  attempted,  and  their  history  is  the  history  of 
Jewish  Reform. 


III. 


REFORMED  JUDAISM. 

Reformed  Judaism  originated  in  Germany ;  its  leading  rep- 
resentatives have  invariably  been  Germans.  The  history  of 
Germany  during  the  past  one  hundred  years  is  the  background 
upon  which  our  account  of  the  movement  must  be  projected. 

The  Jews  of  Germany  had  waited  long  and  patiently  for  de- 
liverance. At  last,  toward  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century 
it  came,  and  one  whom  they  delight  to  call  their  •*  Second 
Moses  "  arose  to  lead  them  into  the  promised  land  of  freedom. 
This  was  Moses  Mendelssohn.  His  distinguished  merits  as  a 
writer  on  philosophy  and  aesthetics  we  need  not  here  pause  to 
dilate  upon,  but  shall  proceed  at  once  to  consider  him  in  his  re- 
lations to  the  political,  social,  and  religious  emancipation  of  his 
people.  In  each  of  these  different  directions  his  example  and 
influence  upon  others  served  to  initiate  a  series  of  salutary 
changes,  and  he  may  thus  appropriately  be  termed  the  father  of 
the  Reform  movement  in  its  widest  acceptation.  It  was  Men- 
delssohn who,  in  1 78 1,  inspired  Christian  Wilhelm  Dohm  to 
publish  his  book  "On  the  Civil  Amelioration  of  the  Jews,"  a 
work  in  which  an  earnest  plea  for  their  enfranchisement  was  for 
the  first  time  put  forth.  The  author  points  to  the  thrift  and  fru- 
gality that  mark  the  Jewish  race,  their  temperate  habits  and  love 
of  peace,  and  exposes  the  folly  of  debarring  so  valuable  a  class 
of  the  population  from  the  rights  of  the  citizen.  He  appeals  to 
the  wisdom  of  the  government  to  redeem  the  errors  and  injustice 
of  the  past ;  he  defends  the  Jews  against  the  absurd  charges 
which  were  still  repeated  to  their  discredit,  and  strenuously  in- 
sists that  liberty  and  humane  treatment  would  not  only  accrue 
to  their  own  advantage,  but  would  ultimately  redound  to  the 
honor  and  lasting  welfare  of  the  state.  Dohm*s  book  created  a 
profound  impression,  and  though  it  failed  to  produce  immediate 


APPENDIX.  219 

results,  materially  aided  the  cause  of  emancipation  at  a  later 
period. 

Again  Mendelssohn  was  the  first  to  break  through  the  social 
restraints  that  obstructed  the  intercourse  of  Jews  and  Christians, 
and  thus  triumphed  over  a  form  of  prejudice  which  is  commonly 
the  last  to  yield.  His  fame  as  a  writer  greatly  assisted  him  in 
this  respect.  The  grace  and  freshness  of  his  style,  the  apparent 
ease  with  which  he  divested  the  stern  problems  of  philosophy  of 
their  harsher  aspects,  had  won  him  many  and  sincere  admirers. 
His  '*  Phaedon  "  was  eagerly  read  by  thousands,  whom  the  writ- 
ings of  Leibnitz  and  Kant  had  repelled.  On  the  afternoon  of 
the  Jewish  Sabbath  he  was  accustomed  to  assemble  many  of  the 
choice  spirits  of  the  Prussian  capital,  among  whom  we  may  men- 
tion Lessing,  Nikolai,  and  Gleim,  in  his  home.  The  conversa- 
tion turned  upon  the  gravest  and  loftiest  topics  that  can  occupy 
the  human  soul.  The  host  himself  skilfully  guided  the  stream 
of  discussion,  and  the  waves  of  thought  flowed  easily  along  in 
that  placid,  restful  motion  which  is  adapted  to  speculative  themes. 
The  spirit  that  of  old  had  hallowed  the  shades  of  Academe  pre- 
sided over  these  gatherings.  Mendelssohn  emulated  the  plastic 
idealism  of  Plato  and  the  divine  hilarity  of  Socrates.  The  sin- 
gular modesty,  the  truthfulness  and  quiet  dignity  that  adorned 
his  character  were  reflected  upon  the  people  from  whom  he  had 
sprung,  and  produced  a  salutary  change  in  their  favor  in  the 
sentiments  of  the  better  classes. 

But  it  is  as  the  author  of  a  profound  revolution  in  the  Jewish 
religion  that  Mendelssohn  attracts  our  especial  interest.  Not, 
indeed,  that  he  himself  ever  assumed  the  character  of  a  religious 
reformer.  He  was,  on  the  contrary,  sincerely  devoted  to  the  or- 
thodox form  of  Judaism,  and  even  had  a  change  appeared  to  him 
feasible  or  desirable,  he  would  in  S\\  probability  have  declined 
the  responsibility  of  publicly  advocating  it.  His  was  the  con- 
templative spirit  which  instinctively  shrinks  from  the  rude  con- 
tact of  reality.  He  had  neither  the  aggressive  temper  nor  the 
bold  self-confidence  that  stamp  the  leader  of  parties.  And  yet, 
without  intending  it,  he  gave  the  first  impulse  to  Jewish  Reform, 
whose  subsequent  progress,  could  he  have  foreseen  it,  he  would 
assuredly  have  been  the  first  to  deprecate. 


220  APPENDIX. 


THE  BIBLE. 


The  condition  of  the  Jews  at  the  close  of  the  last  century  was 
in  many  respects  unlike  that  of  any  other  race  that  has  ever  been 
led  from  a  state  of  subjection  to  one  of  acknowledged  equality. 
Long  oppression  had  not,  on  the  whole,  either  blunted  their  in- 
tellects or  debased  their  morals.  If  they  were  ignorant  in  mod- 
ern science  and  literature,  they  were  deeply  versed  in  their  own 
ancient  literature,  and  this  species  of  learning  was  not  the  privilege 
of  a  single  class,  but  the  common  property  of  the  whole  people. 
What  they  lacked  was  system.  In  the  rambling  debates  of 
the  Talmud  the  true  principles  of  logical  sequence  are  but  too 
often  slighted,  and  the  student  is  encouraged  to  value  the  subtle 
play  of  dialectics  on  its  own  account,  without  regard  to  any 
ultimate  gain  in  positive  and  useful  knowledge.  Impatience  of 
orderly  arrangement  being  allowed  to  develop  into  a  habit,  be- 
came contagious.  It  i^mpressed  itself  equally  on  the  thought, 
the  manners,  the  language  ^  of  the  Jews,  and  contributed  not  a 
little  to  alienate  from  them  the  sympathies  of  the  refined.  Such, 
however,  was  the  preponderating  influence  of  the  Talmud  that 
it  not  only  engrossed  the  attention  of  the  Jewish  youth  to  the 
exclusion  of  secular  knowledge,  but  even  perverted  the  exegesis 
of  the  Bible  and  caused  the  study  of  Scripture  to  be  compara- 
tively neglected.  To  weaken  the  controlling  influence  of  the 
Talmud  became  the  first  needful  measure  of  Reform,  and  to 
accomplish  this  it  was  necessary  to  give  back  to  the  Bible  its 
proper  place  in  the  education  of  the  young.  It  was  an  event, 
therefore,  of  no  mean  significance  when  Mendelssohn,  in  con- 
junction with  a  few  friends,  determined  to  prepare  a  German 
translation  of  the  Pentateuch,  and  thus,  by  presenting  the  teach- 
ings of  Scripture  in  the  garb  of  a  modern  tongue,  to  render  their 
true  meaning  apparent  to  every  refl.ecting  mind.  The  work  was 
finished  in  1783.  It  holds  a  like  relation  to  the  Jewish  Reform 
movement  that  Luther's  translation  held  to  the  great  Protestant 
movement  of  the  sixteenth  century.  It  was  greeted  with  a  storm 
of  abuse  upon  its  appearance,  and  was  loudly  execrated  by  the 

*  The  German  Jews  spoke  a  mixed  dialect  of  German  and  Hebrew, 
which  has  been  likened  to  the  so  called  Pennsylvania  Dutch. 


APPENDIX.  221 

orthodox  as  the  beginning  of  larger  and  far-reaching  innovations. 
Its  author  might  sincerely  protest  his  entire  innocency  of  the 
radical  designs  imputed  to  him,  but  subsequent  events  have 
proved  the  keener  insight  of  his  opponents.  The  influence  of 
the  new  translation  was  twofold.  In  the  first  place  it  facilitated 
a  more  correct  understanding  of  the  doctrine,  the  literature 
and  language  of  Scripture ;  secondly, — and  this  is  worthy  of 
special  remark, — it  served  the  purpose  of  a  text-book  of  the 
German  for  the  great  mass  of  the  Jews,  who  were  at  that  time 
unable  to  read  a  book  written  in  the  vernacular,  and  thus  be- 
came the  means  of  opening  to  them  the  treasure-house  of  mod- 
ern thought.*  In  the  very  year  in  which  Mendelssohn's  work 
appeared  we  notice  among  the  younger  generation  a  general 
revival  of  interest  in  the  Hebrew,  the  mother-tongue  of  their 
race.  Two  students  of  the  University  of  Konigsberg  began  the 
issue  of  a  periodical  devoted  to  the  culture  of  the  Hebrew,  which 
was  widely  read  and  attracted  great  attention.  Poems,  original 
essays,  Hebrew  versions  of  modern  writings,  appeared  in  its 
columns  ;  the  style  of  the  Prophets  and  of  the  Psalmists  was 
emulated,  the  works  of  the  ancient  masters  of  the  language 
served  as  models,  and  in  the  aspect  of  the  noble  forms  employed 
in  the  diction  of  the  biblical  authors  the  aesthetic  sense  of  the 
modern  Jews  revived.  We  are  inclined  to  doubt  whether  the 
Hebrew  Bible,  considered  merely  with  a  view  to  its  aesthetic 
value,  is  even  yet  fully  appreciated.  The  extravagance  of  reli- 
gious creduhty  and  the  violent  extreme  of  scepticism  have  alike 
tended  to  obscure  its  proper  merits.  The  one  accustomed  to 
behold  in  the  "  holy  book  "  a  message  from  the  Creator  to  his 
creatures  shrinks,  as  a  rule,  from  applying  to  the  work  of  a 
Divine  author  the  critical  standard  of  human  composition.  The 
sceptics  on  the  other  hand,  impatient  of  the  exorbitant  claims 
which  are  urged  for  the  sacred  writings  of  the  Jews,  and  resent- 
ing the  sway  which  they  still  exercise  over  the  human  reason, 
are  hardly  in  a  proper  frame  of  mind  to  estimate  justly  its  in- 
trinsic and  imperishable  excellences.  And  yet,  setting  aside  all 
questions  of  the  supernatural  origin  of  the  Bible,  and  regarding 

*  The    German    of    Mendelssohn's    translation  was    written    in 

Hebrew  letters. 


222  APPENDIX. 

only  the  style  in  which  its  thoughts  are  conveyed,  how  incom- 
parably valuable  does  it  still  remain  !  It  would  be  difficult  to 
calculate  the  extent  to  which  many  of  our  standard  authors  are 
indebted  for  the  grandest  passages  of  their  works  to  their  early 
familiarity  with  the  biblical  style.  Those  who  are  able  to  read 
the  text  in  the  original  become  aware  of  even  subtler  beauties 
that  escape  in  the  process  of  translation.  Purity  of  diction, 
power  of  striking  antithesis,  simple  and  yet  sublime  imagery,  a 
marvellous  facility  in  the  expression  of  complex  states  of  feeling, 
and  those  the  deepest  of  which  the  human  soul  is  capable,  are 
but  a  few  of  the  obvious  features  that  distinguish  the  golden  age 
of  Hebrew  literature.  Never  perhaps  has  the  symbolism  of 
nature  been  used  with  such  supreme  effect  to  express  the  un- 
speakable emotions  that  are  deep  down  in  the  heart  of  man. 
Such  music  as  that  which  swells  through  the  pages  of  Isaiah's 
prophecies  cannot  be  forgotten  ;  such  ringing,  rhythmic 
periods,  in  which  the  eloquence  of  conviction  bursts  forth  into 
the  rounded  fulness  of  perfect  oratory,  can  never  fail  to  touch 
and  to  inspire.  We  know  of  no  nobler  pattern  on  which  the 
modern  orator  could  mould  his  style.  And  thus,  too,  the  ex- 
quisite poetry  of  the  Song  of  Songs,  the  idyl  of  the  Book  of 
Ruth,  the  weird  pathos  of  Jeremiah's  lament,  the  grand  descrip- 
tions of  Job,  will  ever  be  counted  among  the  masterpieces 
of  human  genius.  Whatever  we  may  think  of  the  doctrines 
of  the  Bible,  it  is  safe  to  predict  that  the  book  will  live  long 
after  the  myths  that  surround  its  origin  shall  have  been  dis- 
pelled ;  nay,  all  the  more,  when  it  shall  cease  to  be  worshipped 
as  a  fetish  will  men  appreciate  its  abiding  claims  to  their  rever- 
ence, and  it  will  continue  to  hold  its  honored  place  in  the  libra- 
ries of  the  nations.  The  refining  influence  of  the  study  of  the 
Bible  soon  became  evident  among  the  contemporaries  of  Men- 
delssohn. But  in  another  way  also  his  translation  tended  to 
their  improvement.  We  have  said  that  it  became  the  means  of 
acquainting  them  with  the  language  of  the  land.  A  wide  field 
of  knowledge,  embracing  the  rich  results  of  modern  science, 
philosophy,  and  art,  was  thus  laid  open  to  their  industry. 
Eagerly  they  availed  themselves  of  the  proffered  opportunity ; 
schools  were  erected,  in  which  the  elements  of  liberal  culture 


APPENDIX.  223 

were  imparted  to  the  young,  and  ere  long  we  find  a  new  genera- 
tion of  the  Jews  engaging  in  honorable  competition  with  their 
Christian  brethren  for  the  prize  of  learning  and  the  rewards  of 
literary  distinction.  It  was  at  this  time  that  Kant's  "  Critique 
of  Pure  Reason  "  appeared,  a  work  which  marks  a  new  epoch 
in  the  world's  thought.  Its  profound  reasoning  and  technical 
style  made  it  difficult  of  comprehension  to  all  but  the  initiated. 
Three  Jewish  scholars — Dr.  Herz,  Salomon  Maimon,  and  Ben- 
David — undertook  the  task  of  popularizing  its  main  results,  and 
were  among  the  first  to  call  attention  to  the  transcendent  impor- 
tance of  the  new  system.  Plainly  new  vital  energy  was  coursing 
through  the  veins  of  the  Jewish  people. 

SOCIAL   STANDING. 

But  at  this  very  time,  while  they  were  rapidly  assimilating 
the  best  results  of  modern  culture  and  winning  the  respect  and 
confidence  of  the  learned,  the  Jews  of  Germany  were  still  labor- 
ing under  an  odious  system  of  special  laws,  and  beheld  them- 
selves excluded  from  the  common  rights  of  citizenship.  The 
manly  effort  of  Dohm  in  their  behalf  had  as  yet  availed  nothing  ; 
the  voice  of  bigotry  was  still  supreme  in  the  councils  of  the  sov- 
ereign. And  yet  they  felt  themselves  to  be  the  equals  of  those 
whom  the  law  unjustly  ranked  their  superiors,  and  longed  to  see 
the  barriers  done  away  that  still  divided  them  from  their  fellow- 
men.  Many  of  their  number  had  amassed  fortunes,  and  ex- 
pended their  wealth  with  commendable  prudence  and  generosity. 
They  supported  needy  students,  founded  libraries,  extended 
their  knowledge,  and  refined  their  tastes.  Even  the  Jewish 
maidens  followed  the  general  impulse  toward  self-culture  that 
was  setting  with  such  force  in  the  Jewish  community.  In  par- 
ticular the  works  of  Schiller  and  Goethe,  as  they  successively 
appeared  at  this  period,  inflamed  their  enthusiasm,  and  none 
were  more  zealous  than  they  in  spreading  the  fame  and  influence 
of  the  new  school  of  German  literature.  Still  they  were  taught 
to  consider  themselves  an  inferior  class,  and  were  despised  as 
such.  The  position  of  equality  which  the  narrowness  of  the 
laws  denied  them  they  were  resolved  to  achieve  by  the  weight  ol 
character  and  the  force  of  spiritual  attractions.     Henrietta  de 


224  APPENDIX. 

Lemos,  a  young  girl  of  singular  beauty  and  attainments,  had  at 
this  time  become  the  wife  of  Dr.  Herz,  of  whom  we  have  casu- 
ally spoken  above  in  his  connection  with  Kant.  She  is  described 
as  tall,  graceful,  possessing  a  face  in  which  the  features  of  Hel- 
lenic and  Oriental  beauty  were  blended  in  exquisite  harmony  ; 
while  the  sobriquet  of  the  "  Tragic  Muse,"  by  which  she  be- 
came known,  denoted  the  majestic  nobleness  of  her  presence. 
Under  the  guidance  of  competent  masters  she  had  acquired 
considerable  proficiency  in  many  of  the  modern  and  ancient  lan- 
guages, and  to  a  mind  stored  with  various  knowledge  was  added 
the  mellow  charm  of  a  most  sweet  and  loving  disposition.  At- 
tracted by  her  fame  and  captivated  by  her  genius,  the  most  emi- 
nent men  of  the  day  sought  the  privilege  of  her  society.  The 
art  of  conversation,  which  had  till  then  received  but  little  atten- 
tion in  the  Prussian  capital,  was  for  the  first  time  cultivated  in 
the  salon  of  Henrietta  Herz.  Sparkling  wit  and  profound  phi- 
losophy were  alike  encouraged.  Statesmen  high  in  the  service 
of  their  country  sought  the  amenities  of  these  delightful  gather- 
ings. Alexander  and  Wilhelm  von  Humboldt,  Gentz,  Schleier- 
macher,  Friedrich  von  Schlegel,  Mirabeau,  Dorothea,  the  daugh- 
ter of  Mendelssohn,  Rahel,  afterwards  wife  of  Varnhagen  von 
Ense,  were  among  the  intimates  of  her  circle.  Christians  and 
Jews  met  here  on  terms  of  mutual  deference,  and  forgot  for  a 
while  the  paltry  distinctions  which  still  kept  them  asunder  in 
the  world  without.  And  yet  these  distinctions,  senseless  in 
themselves,  were  full  of  ominous  meaning  to  those  who  felt  their 
burden.  Young  men  eager  for  advancement  in  life  found  their 
religion  an  insuperable  obstacle  in  their  way.  The  professions, 
the  army,  the  offices  of  the  government,  were  closed  against 
them.  On  the  threshold  of  every  higher  career  they  were  rudely 
repulsed,  unless  they  embraced  the  base  alternative  of  changing 
their  creed  to  satisfy  their  ambition.  Under  these  circumstances 
that  fidelity  to  the  faith  of  the  fathers  which  had  so  long  marked 
the  conduct  of  the  Jews  began  seriously  to  waver,  and  in  many 
instances  gave  way.  Not,  indeed,  that  the  new  converts  became 
true  and  loyal  Christians.  On  the  contrary,  they  considered  the 
rite  of  baptism  a  mere  hollow  form,  and  left  it  to  the  state, 
which  had  insisted  upon  their  conformance,  to  justify  the  deep 


APPENDIX.  225 

disgrace  that  was  thus  brought  upon  the  Christian  sacraments. 
Moreover,  a  certain  laxity  in  the  interpretation  of  dogma  had  at 
this  time  become  widely  prevalent,  which  greatly  assisted  them 
in  setting  their  conscience  at  ease.  Rationalism  had  stripped 
the  positive  religions  of  much  of  their  substance  and  individu- 
ality. To  none  of  them  was  an  absolute  value  allowed.  They 
were  regarded  as  forms  in  which  a  principle  higher  than  all 
forms  had  found  an  imperfect  and  temporary  expression.  Even 
the  influence  of  Schleiermacher  tended  rather  to  obliterate  than 
to  define  the  outlines  of  the  contending  creeds.  Schleiermacher, 
the  author  of  a  Protestant  revival  in  Germany,  spoke  the  lan- 
guage of  Pantheism,  and  his  ophiions  are  deeply  suffused  with 
the  spirit  of  Pantheistic  teachings.  He  defines  religion  to  be 
the  sense  of  dependence  on  the  Infinite,  the  Universal.  To  the 
fact  that  different  men  in  different  ages  have  been  variously 
affected  by  the  conception  of  the  Infinite  he  ascribes  the  origin 
of  the  different  creeds.  Theological  dogmas,  according  to  him, 
cannot  claim  to  be  true  in  the  sense  of  scientific  or  philosophical 
propositions.  They  approach  the  truth  only  in  so  far  as  they 
typically  express  certain  emotional  processes  of  our  soul,  and 
those  dogmas  are  nearest  the  truth  which  typify  emotions  of  the 
most  noble  and  exalted  character.  Allowing  Christianity  to  be 
what  its  learned  expounders  had  defined  it,  intelligent  Jews 
could  hardly  find  it  difficult  to  assume  the  Christian  name. 
It  is  estimated  that  in  the  course  of  three  decades  full  one 
half  of  the  Jewish  community  of  Berlin  were  nominally  Chris- 
tianized. 

How  thoroughly  conventional,  at  the  same  time,  the  use  of 
the  term  Christian  had  become  may  be  judged  from  a  letter  ad- 
dressed by  David  Friedlander,  a  friend  of  Mendelssohn's,  to 
Councillor  Teller  of  the  Consistory,  in  which  he  offered,  on  be- 
half of  himself  and  some  co-religionists,  to  accept  Christianity 
in  case  they  might  be  permitted  to  omit  the  observance  of  the 
Christian  festivals,  to  reject  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  of  the 
divinity  of  Jesus,  and,  in  fact,  whatever  is  commonly  regarded 
as  essentially  and  specifically  Christian.  It  is  true  the  reply  of 
the  Councillor  was  not  encouraging. 
10* 


226  APPENDIX. 


PARIS,  THE  NEW  JERUSALEM. 

While  the  very  existence  of  Judaism  was  thus  threatened  in 
Germany,  it  seemed  about  to  regain  its  pristine  vigor  in  France. 
More  than  seventeen  centuries  had  elapsed  since  the  Sanhedrin, 
the  High  Court  of  Jerusalem,  had  passed  out  of  existence. 
Quite  unexpectedly  it  was  recalled  to  momentary  life  by  the 
caprice  of  the  great  Corsican,  who  then  ruled  the  destinies  of 
the  world.  In  the  year  1806  Napoleon  convened  a  parliament 
of  Jewish  Notables  at  Paris  in  order  to  definitely  settle  the  rela- 
tions of  French  Israelites  to  the  state.  Soon  after  an  imperial 
decree  convoked  the  grand  Sanhedrin  for  the  purpose  of  ratify- 
ing the  decisions  of  the  Notables.  The  glories  of  Jerusalem 
were  to  be  renewed  in  "  modern  Babylon  "  on  the  Seine.  On 
February  9,  1807,  the  Sanhedrin  met  in  the  Hotel  de  Vilie.  Care 
was  taken  to  invest  its  sittings  with  due  solemnity ;  the  seats  of 
the  members  were  arranged  in  crescent  shape  about  the  plat- 
form of  the  presiding  officers,  as  had  been  customary  at  Jerusa- 
lem ;  the  president  was  saluted  with  the  title  of  Nassi  (Prince), 
as  in  the  olden  time ;  the  ancient  titles  and  forms  were  copied 
with  scrupulous  exactness.  Two-thirds  of  the  members  were 
Rabbis,  the  remainder  laymen.  The  opening  of  the  Sanhedrin 
attracted  universal  attention,  but  its  proceedings  were  void  of 
interest.  In  fact,  its  sole  task  was  to  lend  the  authority  of  an 
ancient  tribunal  to  the  action  of  the  Notables,  and  this  having 
been  accomplished  it  was  adjourned  after  a  brief  session.  In 
connection  with  these  conventions  of  the  years  1806  and  1807  it 
behooves  us  to  mention  the  creation  of  a  new  constitution  for 
the  French  synagogue  elaborated  by  the  joint  efforts  of  the  im- 
perial Commissioners  and  the  Notables.  The  form  of  govern- 
ment adopted  was  moulded  on  the  pattern  of  the  secular  power. 
A  system  of  consistories  was  organized  throughout  France,  cul- 
minating in  a  central  consistory  at  Paris  with  a  Grand-Rabbin 
at  its  head.  The  officers  of  the  consistories  were  treated  as 
officers  of  the  state,  the  charge  of  their  maintenance  was  in  part 
defrayed  at  the  public  expense,  and,  in  the  course  of  time,  they 
were  placed  on  a  footing  of  almost  complete  equality  with  the 
dignitaries  of  the  Christian  churches.     The  union  of  the  teach- 


APPENDIX.  227 

ers  of  Judaism  in  a  species  of  graded  hierarchy,  dependent  upon 
temporal  rulers  for  their  support,  was  as  have  have  been  ex- 
pected, fruitful  of  evil  results.  If  it  is  true  that  the  supremacy 
of  the  church  over  the  state  disturbs  the  peace  of  nations  and 
endangers  the  very  existence  of  governments,  it  is  equally  cer- 
tain that  no  religion  can  long  continue  to  maintain  its  purity 
when  the  church  becomes  the  subservient  vassal  of  the  state. 
Whatever  the  apparent  gain  in  stability  may  be,  it  is  more  than 
counterbalanced  by  the  loss  of  spontaneity  and  sincerity.  Hyp- 
ocrisy flourishes,  the  liberty  of  conscience  is  abridged,  and  a 
spirit  of  base  time-serving  eventually  prepares  the  downfall  of 
institutions  whose  perfect  safety  is  consistent  only  with  perfect 
freedom. 

The  French  Synagogue,  as  we  have  indicated,  presents  a 
case  in  point.  During  the  past  seventy  years  it  has  stagnated. 
No  single  luminous  thought  lights  up  its  dreary  record,  no  single 
whole-souled  effort  to  appropriate  the  larger  truths  of  our  time 
dignifies  its  annals.  In  the  history  of  the  Reform  movement  it 
merits  no  further  mention. 

THE  LITURGY. 

Returning  to  Germany  we  behold  the  leading  Jews  at  last 
awakened  to  the  necessity  of  energetic  measures  to  check  the 
wide-spread  disaffection  that  was  thinning  out  their  ranks. 
Hitherto  the  liturgy  of  the  synagogue  had  not  been  affected  by 
the  growing  tendency  to  change.  An  attempt  in  this  direction 
was  initiated  by  Israel  Jacobsohn,  the  financial  agent  of  the  Duke 
of  Brunswick,  a  man  of  wealth,  culture,  and  generous  disposition. 
He  was  shocked  by  the  scenes  of  disorder,  the  utter  lack  of  de- 
corum, that  disgraced  the  public  worship  ;  he  was  resolved  as  far 
as  in  his  power  lay  to  correct  the  abuses  which  had  been  allowed 
to  grow  up  unrestrained  in  the  gloomy  period  of  mediaeval  per- 
secution, and  to  win  back  to  the  faith  those  whose  affections  had 
been  estranged  by  the  barbarous  form  in  which  it  appeared  to 
view.  He  erected  at  his  own  expense,  and  dedicated  on  July  17, 
1 8 10,  in  the  town  of  Seesen,  a  new  temple,^  at  the  same  time  in- 

*  The  term  Temple  has  since  been  used  by  the  Reformers  in  con- 
.radistinction  to  the  orthodox  Synagogue, 


228  APPENDIX. 

troducing  certain  radical  modifications  into  the  service  which  we 
shall  presently  take  occasion  to  consider. 

Being  appointed  to  the  Presidency  of  the  Consistory  of  Cas- 
sel,  during  the  reign  of  Jerome  Bonaparte,  he  took  advantage  of 
his  official  position  to  urge  his  innovations  upon  the  congrega- 
tions under  his  charge.  In  1815  he  transplanted  the  **  new  fash- 
ion in  religion  "  to  Berlin,  and  in  1818  assisted  in  founding  the 
temple  at  Hamburg,  which  soon  became  one  of  the  leading 
strongholds  of  Reform.  A  provisional  service  on  the  same  plan 
was  likewise  instituted  at  Leipsic,^  during  the  period  of  the  an- 
nual fair,  and  tidings  of  the  reform  were  thus  rapidly  transmitted 
to  distant  parts  of  Germany.  The  main  changes  introduced  by 
Jacobsohn,  and  copied  by  others,  may  be  briefly  summed  up  as 
follows  :  The  introduction  of  regular  weekly  sermons,  which  had 
not  previously  been  customary  ;  of  prayers  in  the  vernacular  by 
the  side  of  the  Hebrew ;  of  choir  singing  with  organ  accompani- 
ment, and  the  confirmation  of  young  children.  These  innova- 
tions implied  a  revolution  in  the  character  of  the  public  worship. 

The  Jewish  people  had  been  wont  to  regard  themselves  indi- 
vidually and  collectively,  as  soldiers  in  the  army  of  their  God, 
commissioned  to  wage  warfare  against  every  species  of  false 
religion.  A  spirit  of  martial  discipline,  as  it  were,  pervaded  their 
ranks.  The  repetition  of  prayers  and  benedictions  by  day  and 
night  in  the  privacy  of  domestic  life,  on  the  public  square  and  by 
the  roadside,  was  a  species  of  drill  intended  to  keep  alive  in  them 
the  consciousness  of  their  mission,  and  to  prepare  them  for  the 
emergencies  of  actual  conflict.  Thrice  a  day  they  mustered  in 
their  synagogues,  and  renewed  their  oath  of  allegiance  in  the 
presence  of  their  spiritual  king.  The  term  Jewish  Church, 
though  in  frequent  use,  is  a  misnomer  based  upon  false  analogy. 
The  difference  between  the  synagogue  and  the  church  is  as 
clearly  marked  as  that  between  Judaism  and  Christianity  them- 
selves. The  sentimental  element,  using  the  word  in  its  nobler 
signification,  which  is  distinctive  of  the  latter,  is  almost  entirely 
lacking  in  the  former.  Both  make  it  their  aim  to  elevate  the 
moral  life  in  man,  but  while  Judaism  acts  through  the  will  upon 

*  Dr.  Zunz  was  appointed  preacher,  and  the  composer  Meyerbeer 
directed  the  musical  services. 


APPENDIX.  229 

the  affections,  Christianity  places  the  affections  in  the  foreground 
and  seeks  by  their  means  to  persuade  and  captivate  the  will. 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  Reformers  had  in  some  measure 
modified  the  traditional  character  of  Jewish  worship.  The  purely 
emotional  element  acquired  a  prominence  which  it  had  never  had 
before,  the  very  word  employed  to  designate  the  purpose  of  the 
temple  service — "Erbauung,"  edification — was  foreign  to  the 
ancient  vocabulary  of  Judaism.  In  another  direction,  too,  they 
transgressed  the  limits  prescribed  by  time-honored  usage.  We 
have  referred  above  to  the  ceremony  of  confirmation,  which  has 
since  been  generally  adopted  by  congregations  of  the  Reform 
school.  On  some  festival  or  Sabbath — the  Feast  of  Weeks,  cele- 
brated about  Whitsuntide,  being  commonly  preferred — boys  and 
girls  of  thirteen  or  fourteen  are  assembled  in  the  temple,  where, 
after  having  undergone  an  examination  in  the  chief  tenets  of  their 
religion,  they  are  required  to  repeat  aloud  a  confession  of  faith. 
The  ceremony  usually  attracts  a  large  congregation,  and  is  one 
of  the  few  institutions  introduced  by  the  Reformers  that  have 
strongly  seized  upon  the  populai  heart. 

The  natural  concern  of  parents  for  the  welfare  of  their  off- 
spring lends  a  solemn  interest  to  the  occasion.  At  an  age  when 
the  child's  character  begins  to  assume  definite  outlines,  when  the 
reason  unfolds,  and  the  perils  and  temptations  that  attend  every 
pilgrim  on  the  valley  road  of  life,  approach  near,  an  instinctive 
prompting  of  the  human  heart  leads  us  to  forecast  the  future  of 
sons  and  daughters,  and  to  embrace  with  joy  whatever  means 
are  placed  at  our  disposal  to  guard  them  against  aberration  and 
misfortune.  To  utilize  the  impressiveness  of  a  great  public 
gathering,  the  sympathetic  presence  of  parents  and  friends,  the 
earnest  monitions  of  a  wise  and  revered  teacher,  in  order  to  con- 
firm them  in  every  virtuous  endeavor  and  high  resolve,  is  there- 
fore fit  and  proper.*     The  propriety  of  exacting  a  formal  confes- 

*  It  deserves  to  be  noted  that  the  ceremony  of  confirmation  among 
the  Jews  took  its  origin  in  the  schools  of  Seesen,  Frankfort-on-the- 
Main,  etc.  Indeed,  the  first  Reformed  congregations  were  formed 
by  natural  accretion  about  these  schools.  The  influence  of  schools  in 
giving  character  and  stability  to  new  religious  movements  is  a  subject 
of  sufficient  importance  to  deserve  separate  treatment. 


230  APPENDIX. 

sion  of  faith,  however,  has  been  hotly  disputed  both  by  the  ortho- 
dox and  the  more  advanced  liberals.  It  is  urged  that  Judaism 
is  a  practical,  rather  than  a  dogmatical  religion.  Even  the  ex- 
istence of  a  God  is  rather  presupposed  as  a  fact  than  asserted  as 
a  matter  of  belief.  Apart  from  this  it  is  claimed  that  a  child  at 
thirteen  can  hardly  be  prepared  to  comprehend  the  fundamental 
questions  of  religion,  much  less  to  express  convictions  on  prob- 
lems so  grave  and  difficult.  The  age  of  reflection  and  conse- 
quently of  doubt  is  yet  to  come,  nor  can  any  child  on  the  day  of 
its  confirmation  answer  for  its  convictions  ten  years  thereafter. 

The  progress  of  the  Reform  movement  was  thus  of  a  char- 
acter to  awaken  distrust  and  fierce  contention  at  every  step.  The 
conservative  party  were  enraged  at  what  they  considered  un- 
warrantable encroachments  upon  the  traditions  of  an  imme- 
morial past.  The  radicals  were  dissatisfied  with  the  lack  of 
substance  and  vitality  in  the  teachings  of  the  Reformers,  the 
shallow  moralizing  tone  of  their  preachers,  the  superficial  views 
of  Judaism  which  they  scattered  among  the  multitude. 

It  may  indeed  be  asked  how  could  better  things  have  been 
expected  at  that  time.  The  great  facts  of  Jewish  histor)'  were 
not  yet  clearly  known,  the  philosophy  of  Judaism  was  propor- 
tionately vague  and  uncertain.  No  Jewish  author  had  .ever  un- 
dertaken to  write  out  the  annals  of  his  people  ;  chaotic  confusion 
reigned  in  their  chronicles.  To  know  what  Judaism  might  be  it 
seemed  necessary  to  ascertain  in  the  first  instance  what  it  had 
been  ;  the  past  would  prove  the  index  of  the  future.  Untoward 
events  that  happened  at  this  period  gave  a  powerful  impulse  to 
historical  research,  and  led  to  fruitful  investigations  in  the  do- 
main of  Judaism. 

"HEP-HEP." 

The  great  battles  of  1813  and  181 5,  in  which  the  German 
people  regained  their  independence,  effected  a  marvellous  change 
in  the  spirits  and  sentiments  of  the  nation. 

Accustomed  for  a  long  time  to  endure  in  silence  the  insults 
and  arrogance  of  a  foreign  despot,  they  had  learned  to  despair 
of  themselves  ;  a  deadly  lethargy  held  their  energies  in  bondage 
and  in  the  fairy  visions  of  poetry  and  the  daring  dreams  of  met- 


APPENDIX.  23 1 

aphysical  speculation  they  sought  consolation  for  the  pains  and 
burdens  of  reality.  The  victories  of  Leipsic  and  Waterloo  com- 
pletely altered  the  tone  of  their  feelings.  It  is  a  not  uncommon 
fact  that  individuals  usually  the  reverse  of  self- asserting  exhibit, 
on  occasions,  an  overweening  self-consciousness,  which  is  all 
the  more  pointed  and  aggressive  because  of  their  secret  and 
habitual  self-distrust.  We  note  with  curious  interest  the  recur- 
rence of  the  same  obnoxious  trait  in  the  life  of  a  great  nation. 
The  novel  sense  of  power  intoxicated  them,  the  German  mind 
for  the  moment  lost  its  poise  ;  Romanticism  flourished,  the  vio- 
lence of  the  Middle  Ages  was  mistaken  for  manhood,  and  held 
up  to  the  emulation  of  the  present  generation.  Whatever  was 
German  was  therefore  esteemed  good  ;  whatever  was  foreign  was 
therefore  despised,  or  at  best  ignored. 

The  Jews  were  made  to  feel  the  sharp  sting  of  this  feverish 
vanity ;  their  Asiatic  origin  was  cast  up  against  them,  though  it 
might  have  been  supposed  that  a  residence  of  fifteen  centuries 
had  given  them  some  claim  to  dwell  at  peace  with  the  children 
of  the  soil.  In  the  year  181 9  the  assassination  of  Kotzebue 
added  fresh  fuel  to  the  fervor  of  Teutonic  passion.  In  August 
of  that  year  a  professor  of  Wurzburg,  who  had  written  in  de- 
fence of  the  Jews,  was  publicly  insulted  by  the  students.  A 
tumult  ensued,  the  cry  "  Hep-Hep  "  ^  arose  on  every  side,  and 
**  Death  to  the  Jews  "  was  the  watchword.  On  the  next  day  the 
magistrate  ordered  them  to  leave  Wurzburg,  and  four  hundred 
in  number  they  were  driven  beyond  the  city's  limits.  Similar 
excesses  occurred  in  Frankfort-on-the-Main,  Meiningen,  Carls- 
ruhe,  and  elsewhere.  Inflammatory  pamphlets  contributed  to 
increase  the  excitement. 

Grattenauer,  Riihs,  Fries,  had  written  to  good  effect.  All 
the  old  falsehoods  were  revived,  the  fable  of  the  use  of  Christian 
blood  at  Passover  among  the  rest.  It  seemed  as  though  the 
genius  of  chivalry  which  the  Romantic  school  had  invoked  had 
returned  with  its  grim  attendant  train  to  renew  the  orgies  of 

*  "  Hep-Hep  "  has  been  explained  as  an  abbreviation  of  the  words 
"  Hierosolyma  est  perdita"  (Jerusalem  is  perished).  Probably  it  is 
no  more  than  one  of  those  meaningless  exclamations  which  are  not 
infrequent  in  college  jargon. 


232  APPENDIX. 

mediasval  persecution  in  the  full  light  of  the  nineteenth  centur)\ 
In  November  appeared  the  **  Judenspiegel,"  by  Hundt-Rad- 
owsky.  In  this  the  author  argues  that  the  murder  of  a  Jew  is 
neither  criminal  nor  sinful.  In  order  to  avoid  unnecessary 
bloodshed  however,  he  proposes  a  more  peaceful  means  of  rid- 
ding the  German  people  of  "these  vermin."  His  propositions, 
couched  in  plain  language  and  delivered  in  sober  earnest,  are 
simply  these :  the  men  to  be  castrated,  and  sold  as  slaves  to  the 
East  Indies ;  the  women — but  the  pen  refuses  to  record  the 
fiendish  suggestion.  It  is  mortifying  to  reflect  that  this  infamous 
publication  was  widely  circulated  and  eagerly  read.^ 

THE  SCIENCE  OF  JUDAISM. 

The  sole  reply  which  these  occurrences  elicited  from  the  in- 
telligent members  of  the  Jewish  community  was  a  more  strenu- 
ous effort  on  their  part  to  complete  the  work  of  inward  purifica- 
tion, and  renewed  zeal  in  the  study  of  their  historic  past.  They 
trusted  that  the  image  of  Judaism,  if  presented  in  its  proper 
light,  would  remove  the  odium  which  rested  upon  their  people, 
and  would  furthermore  become  their  sure  guide  in  the  work  of 
reconstructing  the  religion  of  their  ancestors. 

Late  in  the  year  1819  a"  Society  for  the  Culture  and  Science  * 
of  the  Jews  "  was  founded  at  Berlin.  Its  object  was  twofold  : 
first  to  promote  a  more  effective  prosecution  of  the  "  Science  of 
Judaism  "  ;  secondly,  to  elevate  the  moral  tone  of  the  people, 
to  counteract  their  prevailing  bias  toward  commerce,  and  to  en- 
courage them  in  the  pursuits  of  agriculture,  the  trades,  and  such 
of  the  professions  as  they  had  access  to. 

The  science  of  Judaism  embraces  the  departments  of  history, 
philosophy,  and  philology,  the  last  being  of  special  importance, 
since  it  presents  the  key  to  the  correct  understanding  of  the  two 
former.  The  means  adopted  to  secure  these  objects  were  chiefly 
three, — a  scientific  institute,  a  journal  whose  columns  were  en- 
riched by  many  contributions  of  enduring  value,  and  a  school  in 

*  Graetz,  Geschichte  der  Juden,  X.  p.  361. 

2  Throughout  this  article  we  use  the  word  "  science  "  in  the  sense 
of  the  German  Wissenschaft. 


APPENDIX.  233 

which  instruction  was  imparted  gratis  to  poor  students  and  arti- 
sans. Among  the  members  of  the  society  we  mention  Edward 
Gans,  the  President,  afterwards  Professor  of  Jurisprudence  at 
the  University  of  Berlin  ;  the  eminent  critic,  Dr.  Zunz  ;  the  poet, 
Heinrich  Heine  ;  ^  Moser  ;  the  noble  Wholwill ;  and  others. 

Unfortunately,  the  public  mind  was  not  yet  prepared  to  ap- 
preciate the  labors  of  these  men  ;  the  society  languished  for 
want  of  support,  and  after  a  few  years  its  formal  organization 
was  dissolved.  But  in  the  brief  term  of  its  existence  it  had  ac- 
complished its  main  object ;  the  science  of  Judaism  was  securely 
established,  and  it  could  safely  be  left  to  the  industry  of  a  few 
gifted  individuals  to  cultivate  and  propagate  it.  The  ten  years 
following  the  "  Hep-Hep  "  excitement  witnessed  a  series  of  lit- 
erary achievements  whose  importance  it  would  be  difficult  to 
overrate.  Zunz  and  Rappoport,  the  pioneers  of  the  new  science, 
discovered  the  thread  by  which  they  were  enabled  to  push  their 
way  through  the  labyrinth  of  Jewish  literature.  Profound  eru- 
dition, critical  acumen,  and  a  subtle  insight  amounting  almost 
to  intuition,  are  displayed  in  their  writings.  A  band  of  worthy 
disciples  followed  their  lead.  The  chain  of  tradition,  which  had 
seemed  hopelessly  tangled,  was  unravelled  ;  many  of  its  missing 
links  were  ingeniously  supplied,  and  the  sequence  of  events,  on 
the  whole,  satisfactorily  determined.  The  dimness  and  vague- 
ness that  had  hung  over  the  history  of  the  Jews  was  giving  way, 
and  the  leading  figures  in  the  procession  of  past  generations 
assumed  clear  and  distinct  outlines.  At  this  time  Jost  was  em- 
ployed in  wirting  the  first  connected  histoiy  of  his  people  which 
had  ever  emanated  from  Jewish  sources. 

SCIENTIFIC  THEOLOGY. 

While  scholars  were  thus  busy  preparing  the  way  for  a  new 
theory  of  Judaism  based  on  the  facts  of  its  history,  no  efforts 
were  made  to  press  the  needful  work  of  practical  reform.  In- 
deed, the  hostile  attitude  of  the  temporal  rulers  discouraged  any 

^  Heine  was  for  some  time  an  instructor  in  the  society's  school. 
For  an  account  of  the  Cultur-  Verein,  and  of  the  poet's  cordial  interest 
in  its  success,  vide  Strodtmann,  "  Heine's  Leben  und  Werke,"  p.  237. 


234  APPENDIX. 

such  undertaking-.  The  influence  of  Metternich  swayed  the 
councils  of  the  German  princes.  The  King-  of  Prussia  had 
broken  the  promise  of  constitutional  government  which  he  had 
given  to  his  people  in  the  hour  of  need.  The  power  of  the 
Triple  Alliance  was  prepared  to  crush  out  the  faintest  stirrings 
of  political  or  religious  liberty  wherever  they  appeared. 

In  1830,  however,  the  revolution  in  France  swept  away  a 
second  time  the  throne  of  the  Bourbons,  and  changed  the  face 
of  affairs.  The  courage  of  the  liberal  party  revived  everywhere  ; 
the  bonds  of  despotism  were  relaxed  ;  a  spirit  of  resistance  to 
oppression  arose,  and  grew  in  intensity  from  year  to  year,  until 
it  at  last  found  vent  in  the  convulsions  of  1848.  The  Jews  felt 
the  prophetic  promise  of  a  better  order  of  things,  and  roused 
themselves  to  renewed  exertions. 

We  have  indicated  in  a  previous  article  that  the  cause  of 
political  and  of  religious  emancipation,  so  far  at  least  as  Ger- 
many was  concerned,  advanced  in  parallel  lines.  In  1831  Ga- 
briel Riesser  addressed  a  manifesto  to  the  German  people  on  the 
position  of  the  Jews  among  them.^  It  was  a  clear  and  forcible 
presentment  of  the  case.  The  style  is  dignified,  free  from  the 
taint  of  undue  self-assertion,  and  equally  free  from  misplaced 
modesty.  He  did  not  petition  for  a  favor  ;  he  demanded  a  right. 
He  disdained  all  measures  of  compromise  ;  he  dared  to  treat  the 
question  as  one  of  national  importance  ;  he  asked  for  simple 
justice,  and  would  be  content  with  nothing  less.  The  German 
people  rewarded  his  manliness  with  their  confidence,^  and  under 
his  able  leadership  the  struggle  for  emancipation  was  finally 
brought  to  a  triumphant  close. 

In  1835  Abraham  Geiger,  then  Rabbi  of  Wiesbaden,  began  the 
publication  of  a  "Scientific  Journal  for  Jewish  Theology,"  and 
with  the  appearance  of  this  periodical  the  Reform  movement 
entered  into  its  present  phase.  It  was  the  purpose  of  Geiger 
and  his  coadjutors  to  prosecute  the  work  of  religious  renovation 
on  the  basis  of  the  science  of  Judaism.     This  is  the  distinguish- 

*  Ueber  die  Stellung  der  Bekenner  des  Mosaischen  Glaubens  an 
die  Deutschen  aller  Confessionen.     Riesser's  Works,  11. 

*  He  was  elected  Vice-President  of  the  first  German  Parliament 
that  met  in  the  Pauls-Kirche  in  Frankfort. 


APPENDIX.  235 

ing  feature  of  the  modern  school  of  Jewish  Reform.  But,  be- 
fore we  proceed  to  sketch  the  principles  of  these  "  scientific 
theologians,"  let  us  rapidly  advert  to  the  brief  series  of  events 
that  mark  the  outward  development  of  the  new  school. 

Around  the  standard  which  Geiger  had  unfurled  a  body  of 
earnest  men  soon  collected,  who  agreed  with  him  in  the  main 
in  desiring  to  reconcile  science  and  life  {Wissenschaft  und 
Leben).  They  were  mostly  young  men,  fresh  from  the  univer- 
sities, profoundly  versed  in  Hebrew  and  rabbinic  lore,  zealous 
lovers  of  their  religion,  equipped  with  the  elements  of  ancient 
and  modern  culture,  and  anxious  to  harmonize  the  conflicting 
claims  of  both  in  their  private  lives  and  public  station.  Many 
of  them  underwent  severe  privations  for  their  convictions'  sake. 
They  were  distrusted  by  the  various  governments,  without  whose 
sanction  no  Jewish  clergyman  could  enter  upon  his  functions, 
and  were  made  to  feel,  in  common  with  other  Liberals,  the  dis- 
pleasure which  their  measures,  moderate  though  they  were,  had 
provoked  in  high  quarters.  They  were  subjected  to  numberless 
petty  annoyances,  and  even  downright  force  was  employed  to 
check  their  growing  popularity.  With  the  accession  of  Freder- 
ick William  IV.,  the  Ultramontanes  and  the  party  of  retrogres- 
sion in  the  Protestant  Church  completely  gained  the  ascendant. 

Covered  by  the  shield  of  royal  favor  they  offered  the  most 
audacious  insults  to  the  conscience  and  common-sense  of  the 
people,  the  right  of  free  speech  was  impaired,  the  press  was 
shackled,  while  the  most  abject  superstitions  were  openly  en- 
couraged. The  holy  coat  of  Jesus,  exhibited  at  the  cathedral  of 
Treves,  attracted  hundreds  of  thousands  of  pilgrims,  and  the 
fame  of  the  miraculous  cures  it  had  effected  was  diligently  spread. 
But  the  very  violence  of  the  extremists  provoked  a  determined 
opposition  among  the  intelligent  classes.  National  unity  and 
individual  liberty  were  loudly  demanded,  a  German  Catholic 
party  was  formed  with  the  avowed  object  of  reorganizing  Cath- 
olicism on  the  basis  of  the  modem  State.  Free  religious  con- 
gregations began  to  crop  up  here  and  there,  which,  though  fee- 
ble as  yet  in  their  organization,  were  properly  regarded  as  sig- 
nificant of  the  spirit  of  the  times.  On  the  waves  of  the  turning 
tide  the  young  Rabbis  were  carried  along.     They,  too,  were 


236  APPENDIX. 

ardent  patriots ;  they  too,  were  eager  to  see  their  religion  wed- 
ded to  the  progressive  tendencies  of  the  age.  The  sympathies 
of  the  most  enhghtenedof  their  brethren  were  cheerfully  ex- 
tended to  them,  and  high  hopes  were  founded  on  their  success. 

In  1844  they  were  sufficiently  strong  to  meet  in  convention. 
Disclaiming  the  functions  of  a  religious  synod,  they  assumed  the 
character  of  a  scientific  body,  assembled  to  promote  the  objects 
of  truth  in  their  special  department.  The  discussions  were  in- 
deed intended  to  secure  harmony  of  sentiment  and  action,  but 
the  resolutions  adopted  were  binding  neither  upon  the  members 
themselves  nor  upon  the  congregations  they  represented.  Three 
times  these  conventions  were  repeated  at  Brunswick,  Frankfort, 
and  Breslau. 

In  1845  a  new  congregation  was  formed,  called  "  The  Re- 
form Association  of  Berlin,"  which  was  recruited  from  the  ex- 
treme left  wing  of  the  liberal  Jewish  party.  This  congregation 
became  noted  for  the  introduction  of  a  Sunday  service,  a  meas- 
ure which  eventually  compelled  them  to  entirely  abandon  the 
Jewish  Sabbath.  Samuel  Holdheim,  the  ablest  exponent  of 
radical  Judaism,  was  selected  to  be  their  preacher. 

Thus  far  had  the  Reform  movement  proceeded,  when,  in 
1848,  the  incidents  of  a  great  political  revolution  crowded  every 
other  issue  into  comparative  insignificance.  The  fall  of  Metter- 
nich  before  the  intrigues  of  the  camarilla  and  the  fury  of  a  pop- 
ular uprising,  the  humiliation  of  the  king  of  Prussia,  the  convo- 
cation of  the  national  parliament,  the  Baden  insurrection, — these 
were  the  events  that  absorbed  the  interest  of  the  public.  Politi- 
cal incompetency  on  the  part  of  the  leaders  precipitated  the 
catastrophe  of  the  revolution,  and  the  hopes  of  the  German 
people  were  again  doomed  to  disappointment.  Soon  the  reac- 
tion set  in,  a  dreary  period  of  stagnation  followed,  and  the  efforts 
of  the  friends  of  freedom  were  paralyzed. 

The  Jewish  Reformers  were  stricken  down  by  the  general 
reverse  that  had  overtaken  the  liberal  party,  nor  have  they  since 
been  able  to  recover  from  its  stunning  effects.  Two  revolutions, 
those  of  1830  and  1848,  mark  the  growth  and  the  decline  of 
"  scientific  reform.'*  Within  the  past  thirty  years  a  number  of 
prominent  reformers  have  been  called  to  this  country,  and  to 
them  is  due  the  spread  of  the  movement  in  the  United  States. 


APPENDIX.  237 

The  difficulties  which  confronted  them  here  were  of  the  most 
formidable  kind.  The  great  bulk  of  the  Jewish  emigration  to 
the  United  States  were  originally  drawn  from  the  village  con- 
gregations of  the  Fatherland,  and  were  by  no  means  fair  speci- 
mens of  the  intelligence  and  culture  of  the  Jewish  race.  While 
they  displayed  the  qualities  of  energy,  perseverance,  and  thrift, 
and  soon  acquired  wealth  and  influence  in  the  commercial  world, 
few  only  were  fitted  to  appreciate  a  movement  so  thoroughly 
intellectual  in  its  bearings  as  that  which  the  reformers  came  to 
propagate  amongst  them.  The  mere  externals  of  reform  were 
readily  adopted,  but  its  spiritual  essence  escaped  them.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  development  of  Reformed  Judaism  on  American 
soil  presents  no  novel  or  striking  features  for  our  consideration, 
and  it  may  appropriately  be  treated  as  a  mere  offshoot  of  the 
German  stock. 

PRINCIPLES. 

Ever  since  the  appearance  of  Geiger's  "  Scientific  Journal," 
Jewish  philology  and  Jewish  theology  have  been  inseparably  con- 
nected. To  attempt  a  detailed  account  of  the  latter  would  involve 
the  necessity  of  frequent  reference  to  the  former,  an  attempt  in 
which  we  can  hardly  assume  the  reader's  interest  would  bear  us 
out.  Unwilling  to  test  his  patience  by  such  a  course,  we  shall 
content  ourselves  with  stating  the  main  principles  of  Reformed 
Judaism,  and  briefly  indicating  the  successive  steps  by  which  it 
advanced  to  its  present  positions. 

The  one  great  fact  which  the  Science  of  Judaism  has  indis- 
putably established  was  the  fact  of  evolution  in  the  sphere  of  the 
Jewish  religion.  Each  generation  had  legislated  for  itself.  The 
authorities  of  the  Middle  Ages  had  introduced  changes  in  the 
ritual ;  the  Talmud  itself,  that  corner-stone  of  orthodoxy,  was  a 
stupendous  innovation  on  the  simplicity  of  Bible  rthe  eligion.* 
Applying  the  theory  of  evolution  to  their  own  case,  the  modern 

*  The  theory  of  an  Oral  Law,  delivered  to  Moses  on  Sinai  and 
handed  down  from  generation  to  generation,  until  it  was  6nally  em- 
bodied in  the  ordinance  of  the  Talmudical  academies,  is  a  palpable 
fiction,  invented  by  the  Talmudists  in  order  to  lend  to  their  own  de- 
cisions the  sanction  of  Divine  authorship. 


238  APPENDIX. 

Rabbis  assumed  on  their  part  the  right  to  institute  whatever 
changes  the  exigencies  of  the  age  had  rendered  imperative.  The 
very  fact  of  change,  it  is  true,  presupposes  the  existence  of  a  sub- 
stratum that  remains  unchangeable.  What  that  substratum  in 
the  case  of  Judaism  is  claimed  to  be,  we  shall  presently  discover. 
The  measures  of  the  Reformers  were  in  the  main  dictated  by  the 
sentiment  of  patriotism  and  the  desire  to  remove  the  barriers  that 
interposed  between  them  and  their  fellow-men.  They  would 
cease  to  be  a  "state  within  the  state,"  cease  to  separate  them- 
selves from  the  fellowship  of  the  Gentiles.  Hence  the  leading 
proposition  upon  which  Reformed  Judaism  is  founded.  The 
Jewish  people  have  ceased  to  be  a  national  unity  and  will  exist 
hereafter  as  a  confederation  of  religious  societies. 

If  the  Jews  have  ceased  to  be  a  nation,  then  the  Reformers 
must  abandon  the  idea  of  a  national  restoration.  They  did  so. 
If  they  have  ceased  to  be  a  nation,  they  must  give  up  the  hope 
of  a  personal  Messiah  who  should  lead  them  back  to  the  prom- 
ised land.  They  did  so.  If  they  desired  no  longer  to  dwell  in 
seclusion  they  must  abolish  the  dietary  laws,  which  forbid  them 
to  taste  of  the  food  of  Christians,  though  commanded  by  the 
Talmud  and  founded  apparently  on  the  authority  of  Moses. 
This,  too,  they  were  willing  to  do.  Other  changes  were  inspired 
by  the  philosophic  teachings  of  the  day,  and  were  undertaken 
with  equal  readiness.  Thus  the  doctrine  of  resurrection  in  the 
flesh  was  set  aside.  The  fabric  of  ceremonial  observances  had 
been  rudely  shaken,  and  soon  gave  way  altogether.  Changes  in 
the  ritual  followed.  The  prayer-book  reflected  the  gloomy  spirit 
of  a  people  whose  life  was  embittered  by  constant  trials  and  dan- 
gers. Naturally  they  had  turned  to  the  past  and  the  glories  of 
Zion ;  the  pomp  of  the  sacrifices,  the  advent  of  the  Messiah,  the 
future  restoration  of  the  kingdom  of  David,  were  the  themes  on 
which  they  loved  to  dwell.  All  this  was  no  longer  suited  to  the 
temper  of  the  modern  Jews,  and  radical  alterations  became  ne- 
cessary. Many  of  the  festivals  and  fast-days  also  were  struck 
from  the  calendar.  One  of  the  most  distinctive  customs  of  the 
Jews,  the  so-called  rite  of  Abraham's  Covenant,  was  boldly 
attacked,  and  though  the  abolition  of  this  ancient  practice  is  still 
strenuously  resisted,  there  is  little  doubt  that  it  will  ultimately  go 


APPENDIX.  239 

with  the  rest.     Samuel  Holdheim  advocated  the  propriety  of  in- 
termarriage between  Jews  and  Christians. 

The  manner  in  which  these  conclusions  were  reached  may  be 
described  as  follows.  At  first  an  attempt  was  made  to  found 
each  new  measure  of  Reform  on  the  authority  of  the  Talmud. 
The  Talmud  was  attacked  with  its  own  weapons.  The  fallacy 
of  such  a  method  becoming  apparent,  the  authority  of  the  Tal- 
mud was  entirely  set  aside.  A  return  to  the  Bible  was  next  in 
order.  But  even  the  laws  of  the  Bible  proved  to  be  no  longer 
capable  of  fulfilment  in  their  totality.  A  distinction  was  there- 
fore drawn  between  the  letter  and  the  spirit  of  the  Bible.  The 
letter  is  man's  handiwork,  the  spirit  alone  ought  to  be  regarded 
as  the  Divine  rule  of  faith.  The  **  spirit  of  the  Bible  "  is  the  es-* 
sence  of  Judaism,  which  cannot  change.  In  the  process  of  evo- 
lution it  constantly  assumes  new  forms,  but  remains  substantially 
the  same.  Nor  could  any  motives  of  expediency,  nor  could  even 
the  ardent  desire  of  political  emancipation  have  induced  the  Re- 
formers to  pursue  the  course  they  did,  had  they  for  one  moment 
believed  it  contrary  to  the  substantial  teachings  of  the  Bible. 
The  spirit  of  the  Bible  is  expressed  in  two  fundamental  proposi- 
tions :  the  existence  of  one  God,  the  author  and  governor  of  the 
universe ;  and  the  Messianic  mission  of  the  people  of  Israel. 
The  former  is  no  longer  the  exclusive  property  of  Judaism,  the 
latter  is  distinctively  its  own ;  both  together  express  the  simple 
creed  of  the  Reformers. 

PROSPECTS. 

If  now  we  cast  a  glance  upon  the  present  aspect  of  Reformed 
Judaism  we  are  confronted  by  a  state  of  affairs  that  by  no  means 
corresponds  to  the  great  anticipations  which  were  connected  with 
the  movement  in  its  earlier  stages.  The  ancient  institutions  have 
been  cleared  away, — that  was  unavoidable  ;  they  had  long  been 
tottering  to  their  ruin, — but  an  adequate  substitute  for  what  was 
taken  has  not  been  provided.  The  leaders  have  penetrated  to 
the  foundations  of  their  religion,  but  upon  these  bare  foundations 
they  have  erected  what  is  at  best  a  mere  temporary  structure  in- 
capable of  affording  them  permanent  shelter  and  protection.  The 
temper  of  the  Reform  school  has  been  critical.   Its  members  were 


240  APPENDIX. 

admirably  fitted  to  analyze  and  to  dissect ;  their  scholarship  is  un- 
questionably great ;  the  stainless  purity  of  their  lives  has  elevated 
the  character  of  their  people  and  entitled  them  to  sincere  respect. 
But  they  lacked  the  constructive  genius  needed  for  the  creation 
of  nev^  institutions.  In  the  year  1822  Wholwill  declared  that 
"  the  Jews  must  raise  themselves  and  their  principle  to  the  level 
of  science.  Science  is  the  one  bond  that  alone  can  unite  the  whole 
human  race."  The  emphasis  thus  placed  on  science  has  con- 
tinued to  distinguish  the  Reform  movement  down  to  the  present 
day.  In  the  sphere  of  religion,  however,  it  is  not  sufficient  to 
apprehend  the  abstract  truth  of  ideas  with  the  help  of  intellect, 
but  it  is  necessary  to  array  these  ideas  in  concrete  forms,  in  order 
that  they  may  warm  the  heart  and  stimulate  the  will. 

We  hold  it  erroneous  to  believe  that  the  age  of  symbolism  is 
passed.  The  province  of  religion  is  to  bring  the  human  soul  into 
communion  with  the  Infinite.  In  the  lower  religions  the  concep- 
tion of  the  Infinite  was  meagre  and  insufficient  and  the  symbols 
in  use  proportionately  gross.  At  the  present  day  it  is  the  ideal 
of  moral  perfection  that  alone  is  capable  of  exciting;  our  devotion 
and  kindling  our  enthusiasm.  Now  it  is  true  that  the  material 
symbolism  of  the  churches  and  the  synagogues,  the  venerabile, 
the  bread  and  wine,  the  scrolls  of  the  Pentateuch  tricked  out  in 
fanciful  vestments,  fail  to  appeal  to  the  sympathies  of  many  edu- 
cated men  and  women  of  our  time ;  not,  however,  because  they 
are  symbols,  but  because  they  are  inadequate  symbols,  because 
of  an  almost  painful  disparity  between  their  earthy  origin  and  the 
vastness  of  the  spiritual  ideas  which  they  are  intended  to  suggest. 
There  is,  on  the  other  hand,  a  species  of  symbolism  peculiarly 
adapted  to  the  needs  of  the  present  generation,  and  which,  if 
properly  understood,  might  be  employed  to  incalculable  advan- 
tage in  the  interest  of  a  revival  of  the  religious  sentiment.  We 
allude  to  the  symbolism  of  association. 

The  tendency  to  associate  the  efforts  of  individuals  in  corpo- 
rate action  has  never  been  more  markedly  displayed  than  in  our 
own  day.  So  long  as  such  associations  confine  themselves  to 
certain  finite  objects,  they  are  mere  social  engines  organized  with 
a  view  to  utility  and  power,  and  with  such  we  are  not  concerned. 
The  characteristic  of  symbols   is   their  suggestiveness.     They 


APPENDIX.  241 

have  a  meaning  in  themselves,  but  they  suggest  illimitable  mean- 
ings beyond  their  scope.  Now  a  form  of  organization  is  not  only 
conceivable,  but  has  actually  been  attempted,  that  fully  meets  the 
requirements  of  the  symbolic  character.  The  Christian  Church 
is  designed  to  be  such  an  organization.  Not  only  does  it  propose 
to  unite  its  members  and  to  satisfy  their  spiritual  needs  during 
the  term  of  their  sojourn  on  earth,  but  it  aspires  to  typify  the 
union  of  all  saints  under  the  sovereignty  of  Jesus,  and  thus  to 
give  to  the  believer  a  presentiment  of  the  felicity  and  perfection 
of  the  higher  world.  In  like  manner  the  Hebrews  have  been 
acquainted  with  the  symbolism  of  association  from  a  very  early 
period  of  their  history.  If  they  delight  to  style  themselves  the 
chosen  people,  the  meaning  of  that  phrase,  so  often  misunder- 
stood, is  purely  symbolical. 

Recognizing  the  fact  that  the  majority  of  mankind  are  at  no 
time  prepared  to  entertain  the  ideals  of  the  few,  they  undertook 
to  work  out  among  themselves  a  nobler  conception  of  religion 
and  a  loftier  morality,  trusting  that  the  force  of  their  example 
would  in  the  end  bring  about  the  universal  adoption  of  their 
faith  and  ethical  code.  In  this  sense  the  choice  of  Israel  was  in- 
terpreted by  the  Prophets.  They  believed  that  their  selection  by 
the  Deity  imposed  upon  them  heavier  responsibilities,  and  re- 
garded it  in  the  light  of  an  obligation  rather  than  a  privilege. 
What  the  statue  is  to  the  ideal  of  beauty,  a  whole  people  resolved 
to  be  in  relation  to  the  ideal  of  the  good.  The  same  conception 
still  dominates  the  thoughts  of  the  Reformers,  and  is  expressed  by 
them  in  their  doctrine  of  Israel's  messianic  mission.  They  claim 
that  the  Jews  have  been  for  the  past  three  thousand  years  the 
**  Swiss  guard  of  monotheism."  They  still  believe  themselves 
to  be  the  typical  people,  and  their  firm  persuasion  on  this  head 
is  the  one  strong  feature  of  the  Reformers'  creed.  If  they  will 
use  their  world-wide  association  to  illustrate  anew  the  virtues 
for  which  their  race  became  renowned  in  the  past, — and  we  refer 
especially  to  the  purity  of  the  sexual  relations  among  them,  their 
pious  reverence  for  domestic  ties, — they  may  still  become,  as 
they  aspire  to  do,  exemplars  of  purity  to  be  joyfully  imitated  by 
others.     If  they  will  use  it  in  the  spirit  of  their  ancient  lawgiver 

'  Leviticus  xxv.  8. 


242  APPENDIX. 

to  tone  down  the  harsh  distinctions  of  wealth  and  poverty,  to 
establish  juster  relations  between  the  strong  and  weak,  in  brief, 
to  harmonize  the  social  antagonisms  of  modern  life,  they  may 
confer  an  inestimable  benefit  upon  mankind.  But  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  symbolism  of  association  might  be  applied  to 
invigorate  the  religious  sentiment,  and  to  expel  the  coldness  of 
the  times  by  the  fervor  of  a  new  enthusiasm,  is  a  subject  of  too 
vast  dimensions  to  be  thus  summarily  despatched,  and  we  shall 
hope  to  recur  to  it  on  some  future  occasion.^ 

The  present  condition  of  liberal  Judaism  is  strongly  akin  to 
that  of  liberal  Christianity.  The  old  is  dead,  the  new  has  not 
been  born.  It  is  hardly  safe  to  predict  what  possible  develop- 
ments the  future  may  yet  have  in  store.  As  regards  the  Jews, 
however,  it  is  right  to  add  that  such  changes  as  have  taken 
place  in  the  constitution  of  their  religion  have  not  brought  them 
in  any  sense  nearer  to  Christianity.  On  the  contrary,  since  the 
belief  in  a  personal  Messiah  has  been  dropped,  the  hope  of  their 
conversion  has  become  more  vague  and  visionary  than  ever. 
Those  whom  the  worship  of  the  synagogue  and  the  temple  no 
longer  attracts  either  become  wholly  sceptical  and  indifferent,  or, 
as  is  often  the  case,  transfer  their  allegiance  to  the  new  humani- 
tarian doctrine  which  is  fast  assuming  the  character  of  a  religion 
in  the  ardor  it  inspires  and  the  strong  spiritual  union  it  cements. 
For  the  great  body  of  the  Jews,  however,  the  central  doctrine  of 
Judaism  remains  unshaken,  and  doubtless,  so  long  as  Christi- 
anity exists,  Judaism  as  a  distinct  creed  will  coexist  with  it.  The 
modern  Jews,  like  their  ancestors,  believe  that  their  mission  is 
not  yet  ended,  and  they  await  with  patience  the  rising  of  some 
new  man  of  genius  amongst  them,  who  will  combine  the  quali- 
ties of  the  popular  leader  with  the  attributes  of  the  scholar,  and 
will  give  body  and  form  to  the  ideas  elaborated  by  the  Reform- 
ers. As  a  religious  society  they  desire  to  remain  distinct.  But 
as  citizens,  they  are  eager  to  remove  whatever  distinctions  still 
hamper  their  intercourse  with  their  neighbors  of  other  creeds. 
Never  has  the  desire  to  return  to  Palestine  and  retrieve  their 
lost  nationality  been  more  foreign  to  their  sentiments  than  at  the 
present  day,  though  recent  speculations  have  misled  many  to 

^  In  an  article  on  the  religious  aspects  of  the  social  question. 


APPENDIX.  243 

believe  otherwise.  They  know  they  can  no  more  return  thither. 
They  would  not  if  they  could.  They  love  the  land  of  their  birth  ; 
they  wish  to  join  their  labors  with  those  of  others  in  promoting 
the  progress  of  the  entire  human  race.  They  have  ceased  to 
regret  the  past,  and  desire  nothing  more  earnestly  than  to  live 
in  the  present  and  for  the  future. 


THE  END. 


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